Remember the Hate
by julian-juliana
Summary: Draco and Hermione entered a relationship after Hogwarts that lasted about two years. A decade after their separation, Draco sees Hermione for the first time since and is displeased to discover she does not remember him at all and sets out to investigate why. This leads him to the revelation that he is the center of a conspiracy formulated by friends.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Remember the Hate

Rating: T+ (Sexual suggestive stuff, raunchy kissing, nudity-but not detailed, and swearing.)

Summary: Draco and Hermione entered a relationship after Hogwarts and lasted about two years. A decade after their separation, Draco sees Hermione for the first time since and is displeased to discover she does not remember him at all and sets out to investigate why. This leads him to the revelation that he is the center of a conspiracy formulated by friends.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the time I spent writing this story. Everything belongs to the incredible JKR.

A/N: So I got a pm with a question of when I was going to be bring back Remember the Hate. I suppose I can start posting the first few chapters today and the days to come. This version is a bit more tidy than the last version I deleted and will go along with a companion fic I'm working on called the Road of Forgiveness, as well. Some sentences have changed to flow smoother. I've done my best in editing and cleaning up the grammar and making the phrases and spelling more British than American. I know the story will not be perfect and certainly not genuine with the amazing Brits, but I can proudly say it's a hell of a lot better than it had been before. *Shrugs* At least I think so.

Also, this story has a specifically designed timeframe and does not go along with JKR's epilogue but may have similarities. Anyway, I hope this version is enjoyable. Read and Review and tell me what you think!

* * *

"Is there anything I can help you with, sir?" a familiar voice asked and Draco Malfoy turned away from the bookshelf he had been eyeing and on to Hermione Granger who smiled at him genuinely, showing her set of pearly white teeth and that cute dimple located right below the left corner of her mouth. Her brown eyes were bright and prepared, indicating that she was ready for any question he may ask her.

Draco's shoulder blades brushed against the bookshelf behind him, having leaned backwards in apprehension. There was no reason in the world as to why Hermione Granger was looking at him like that.

"Uh…" Draco said and searched her eyes for something. He was not entirely sure as to what he was looking for, but he needed to delve into those pools of chocolate to get something. When he could find nothing there but curiosity, his focus drifted downward to her nose which was still dusted with those darling freckles that used to weaken his knees, and then to her mouth which was still dark pink and in the shape of cupid's bow. Her hair was pinned back at the nape of her neck with a quill. In her arms was a stack of ten or more books leaning against her for support. She was wearing a simple black t-shirt with a bright design on it with those trending Muggle jeans clinging to her legs like a second skin. Her feet were donned in black slip-on flats with jewel-like studs embedded in the material. His eyes flew back to her face and wondered how he missed it before. She was wearing glasses, too. They were thick-rimmed, maroon, and rectangular framings perched on the top of her nose.

"Hermione," Draco managed to choke in belated response. To his surprise she looked _utterly surprised_. Her shapely eyebrows leapt together and her lips parted in question.

"I'm sorry. Do I know you?" she asked.

Draco's eyes bulged out of his head and his jaw must have dropped to the floor because there was a painful pop on the back of his mouth.

_Well of course you bloody know me! I'm Draco Malfoy, you cad! You used to love me!_

His tongue waggled in preparation to unleash his thoughts upon the daft girl's person when an annoyed voice belonging to a six year old boy spoke up, "I found what I was looking for, Father. Can we go now?"

Draco looked at his bored looking son who appeared beside him and then at Hermione who smiled widely at the scowling, cherub faced boy.

"_Peter Pan,"_ she said while pointing to his book. "Excellent choice. I do hope you enjoy it."

The boy's scowl softened a bit but then turned up his nose and asked haughtily, "Didn't a Muggle write this?"

Draco expected Hermione's smile to dissipate at his son's arrogant tone but was shocked to find her smile widening even further. He could see almost all of her teeth, top and bottom. Her head bobbed up and down. "Indeed."

"Hmmm," Scorpius noised and looked at the cover of his book. "And you said it was an excellent choice?"

"Yes," Hermione answered.

"Okay, then." He wrapped an arm around the book and held it to his tiny chest and took a few steps forward and extended his right hand in politeness. "I'm Scorpius Malfoy, by the way."

A soft, dewy expression came over Hermione's face and all Draco could do was watch the scene unfold. She placed her stack of books on the nearby table and bent over, extending her own hand.

"I'm Hermione Jean Granger," she announced and gently shook the boy's hand. "And I do hope you will be back and visit me and my store."

_Her store?_ Draco mused, blinking in confusion and looked around at his surroundings. Was this a new place? How long had she been there?

"Blimey!" Scorpius exclaimed with excitement, startling Draco out of his befuddled thoughts. "Hermione Granger! Father!" He whirled around to meet his father's confused face. "She's Hermione Granger! She's best friends with Harry Potter like Aunt Pansy's weasel is!"

Draco numbly nodded his head up and down, unsure of what else to do or say.

"Will you sign my book?" Scorpius asked, bouncing on his toes and opening up the book with his hands.

"I guess." Hermione lifted up her hands and shrugged. She pulled the quill out of her hair, and Draco watched as straight hair tumbled loosed. His eyes narrowed at the lack of curls and at the golden color. There was blonde in her hair and watched as she bent down once more to sign his son's book with a flick of her wrist and fingers.

"It's my birthday today. I told Father months ago that I wanted _Peter Pan_ for my birthday. Obviously, he didn't get it for me, so now we are here," his son informed her with a reproving expression directed towards his father.

"Happy Birthday, Scorpius," said Hermione.

"This is my father." Scorpius nudged his head in his father's direction.

"Scorpius' father." Hermione smiled and held out her hand. "I'm Hermione." She then shot him a skeptical look. "But you knew that."

"You know her, Father?" Scorpius questioned as Draco slowly took Hermione's hand in his and shook it timidly, afraid her hospitality would seize the moment their hands touched, like she would come to her senses and remember him and try to kill him or something equally frightening.

"Uh…" Draco noised but was interrupted by his son.

"Well of course you knew her." Scorpius sighed with a silly grin. "You went to school together, right?"

Draco watched as Hermione's blinked in surprise at the boy's revelation and wondered what the soddin' hell was going on?

"We did?" Hermione asked the boy and then placed her focus on Draco like she was hoping he would clear things up.

"Yeah. You were in the same year together. Weren't you, Father?"

Draco hesitated before answering his son's question. "Yes."

"Oh." Hermione frowned and then bit her bottom lip and scratched behind her ear like she was trying to remember something. "I'm afraid I don't remember you. What was your name again?"

"Draco," answered the blond wizard, his own brow contorted in confusion, as well. "Draco Malfoy."

"Malfoy," Hermione repeated and then resumed nibbling on her bottom lip. After a moment, she spoke again. "I know the name. I mean…_everyone_ does, but I'm sorry to say I don't remember you, though."

"H-how-"

"Dear Merlin, I feel embarrassed." Hermione brought her palm to her forehead and blushed. "I thought I knew everyone in our class. Well…not know them, but knew their names."

Draco had wanted to bellow. Growl. Hiss. Bloody hell, how could she not remember him? Great Salazar, they had more than just 'being together in the same class.' They had history that stretched beyond Hogwarts.

"Well, I do apologize for not remembering you. You must think I'm some daft twit or something. And you remember me. I feel awful."

Draco wanted to speak. He had much to say, after all, but nothing came out. All he could do was nod his head and shove his hands into his pockets.

"We should probably be going," Scorpius said while flipping through _Peter Pan_, unaware of the mucky frequency slopping around between the two adults. "I'm having a party."

"Have fun. Happy Birthday," Hermione repeated.

"U-uh…How much do I owe you?" Draco fumbled out while fishing for his wallet in the pocket of his suit.

"Consider it a birthday present and an apology for being a daft twit. Enjoy the book, Scorpius, and I hope to see you two again soon." She waved goodbye and picked up the books she had placed on the neighboring table and quickly disappeared into the stacks, a trace of spicey orange spritz left behind that tickled Draco's nose.

* * *

There were children between the ages of two and ten running around in the Malfoy Manor, their high pitched squeals of delight echoing throughout the hallways. The portraits of Malfoy ancestors tried to chastise these progenies of present day witches and wizards into content behavior, but the children would merely giggle or even dare to roll their eyes before kicking up their knees again and scampering away.

"_Draco!_" Lucius Malfoy hissed at his son from his designated spot above the fireplace in the younger Malfoy's office. "The children are out of control. The other portraits are complaining. Your Grandfather Abraxas reproved Scorpius, and do you know what that boy did? He had the audacity to stick out his tongue and call him a dead old coot!"

Draco, who had been busy rehashing what had happened in the bookstore an hour before, slowly shifted his eyes onto his late father frame-encased setting. In a bored and distracted tone, he replied uninterestedly, "Well, isn't he?"

"_Draco!_" Lucius growled and then paused. He sucked in an unneeded breath, like he was collecting himself, squared his shoulders, lifted up his chin and nose, and sighed, "Draco, your thoughts are distracting you away from your child. Gather yourself and go discipline the boy."

"Father!" Scorpius burst into the room and shouted breathlessly with at least thirty children behind him between the ages of two and ten. "It's time to cut the cake!"

"I will be there in a moment," Draco promised.

"Scorpius, behave yourself," Lucius admonished the boy with one brow cocked.

"And if I don't, what are _you_ going to do about it?" Scorpius taunted and stuck out his tongue and waggled his hands with his thumbs stuck in his ears. He then cackled before hightailing himself and his posse out of there, his laughs echoing throughout the room and hallway.

"He has been spending too much time with Pansy and her brood. I forbid you to associate your family with hers. That Blood-Traitor Harlot has done nothing but begat trouble into Scorpius' life."

"Well, I can't do that. Half those kids were hers. If I disinvite them and cut them off all social and holiday events, Scorpius will not have enough Pureblooded children to play with."

"Half those kids? Great Salazar!"

"Well maybe not half but definitely a fifth. The ones which were ginger-haired at least."

Lucius scrunched his brow and stated morbidly, "There were six."

"Yes."

"Interesting," drawled Lucius. "It seems since my demise, I have missed much. You do not tell me much, Draco. I feel I have to rely on other portraits to get any sort of news and half the time it's secondary and missing keen parts or completely useless. Phineas Black now has three portraits: one here, one in Hogwarts, and one in Twelve Grimmauld Place. One would assume he has more information on the outside world. However, he only holds knowledge of Hogwarts business and the pregnancy woes of Ginevra Potter."

Draco stifled a laugh before standing up from his office chair and exiting the room. He ignored the hisses and chastisements from the portraits and made his way towards the garden where his son's party was. He got there just in time for the cutting of the cake which was being directed by Pansy and her wand. Draco's eyes narrowed and scanned the crowd for his wife and eventually settled on Blaise and weaved his way through the party guests towards his friend.

"Where's Astoria?" Draco asked him.

"I haven't the slightest idea. I've been here with Tamara and Jacob for an hour and haven't seen her."

Draco sighed in annoyance and cursed his flippant wife. He flared his nostrils, sucking in a deep breath and adjusted his tie. "No matter. I'm sure she will show up eventually. Probably without knickers or sobriety, as well, like she did last year on Scorpius' birthday."

Blaise pursed his lips and nodded solemnly. "Maybe she's at her sister's?"

"Was Daphne at _her sister's_ when she would disappear?" Draco asked angrily.

"No," Blaise answered quietly.

Draco tossed him a sympathetic look before settling his eyes on his son whose face was being peppered with kisses by Pansy as all the children and most of the adults sang 'Happy Birthday.' The woman probably knew that the boy's mother was absent and was doing her best to give him a mother's affection. She was very good at it and always had been, Draco mused. He watched as Ron Weasley came up behind Pansy and smacked her on the rump. She seized her kissing and stiffened, whirled around, and glared at her husband menacingly while everyone laughed.

"Merlin, she's about due, isn't she?" Blaise surmised, eyeing Pansy's rotund tummy bump warily.

"I believe so," Draco agreed; however, his thoughts drifted elsewhere when he saw Weasley and reminded him of what happened earlier that day with Hermione.

"Something on your mind?" Blaise inquired.

"Something happened today in Diagon Alley," Draco said.

"Good or bad?"

"Bloody hell if I know." Draco shook his head, thinking back to Hermione acting like she hadn't a clue as to who he was. "I saw Granger today."

"Granger?" Blaise blinked owlishly. "Hermione Granger?"

Draco goggled at his friend. "Do you know any other Grangers?"

"No need to get snippy with me. I'm just…shocked is all. I didn't know she was back in England. Bloody hell. I mean…are you sure it was her?"

Draco chucked Blaise an incredulous look. "Of course it was her, you ponce! I'd recognize my ex anywhere."

"Just checking." Blaise raised his hands in surrender. "What did she look like?"

The memory of Hermione physicality threw Draco off track on what he was actually trying to tell his best friend.

"Good," whispered Draco, who then squished up his face in embarrassment and ran a hand through his close cropped hair. "I mean…"

Blaise snorted and sipped at the drink drink he had in his hand, shaking his head and clucked his tongue.

"I mean she looked different."

"Different," Blaise echoed with a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"No, I'm serious. Her whole…" Draco paused and waved his hand up and down, "demeanor was different. Her attire. Merlin, even her hair."

"Her hair?"

"Her hair," repeated Draco. "It was straight and most of it was blonde."

"Straight? Blonde?"

"There was still brown. Kind of at the bottom. Underneath the blonde I think."

"Are you _sure_ it was her?" Blaise repeated.

"Yes! But…"

"But what?" Blaise leaned towards his friend.

Dracp pinched the skin between his brows and sighed, "She didn't know who I was."

Silence.

When Blaise didn't say anything, Draco lowered his hand and gazed pleadingly at his friend who had an unreadable expression on his face.

"You _spoke_ to her," stated Blaise and rubbed his chin pensively. "You didn't just see her."

Draco eyed his friend's behavior with a critically. "Yes," he slowly said and folded his arms, slit his eyes, and cocked his head to the side. "Indeed, I did speak with her. She didn't remember me, and you don't seem that perturbed by it."

Blaise's hand abandoned his chin and his arms folded, as well. Long seconds drifted between the two former Slytherins as they stared into each other hard. Draco mentally drove into his friend's skull and attempted to use _Legilimency_, but was shut out by Blaise's perfected skill of _Occlumency_.

"What do you know, Zabini?" Draco hissed at his friend, his voice low and dangerous.

"I haven't the slightest as to what you're talking about," Blaise's said calmly and quite lightly, but Draco knew the man better than anyone.

"Oh, I think you do," Draco pressed. "Tell me, Blaise."

"Tell you what? What are you going on about?"

"She doesn't remember me," Draco gritted out, his teeth bared and brow furrowed. "At all."

"That's…." Blaise hesitancy was too long, and they both knew it. The darker wizard closed his eyes and released a sigh of anxiety.

"Blaise," Draco started.

"I'm not going to say anything. I'm going to enjoy the rest of the party, eat some cake, and take my kids home. And you…" Blaise licked his lips and offered. "Why don't you just _forget_ you ran into Hermione Granger today?"

Draco watched him disappear into the crowd of party guests. He balled his fists and resisted the urge to smash something to bits. Instead, he eyed the piece of birthday cake handed to him by Ron Weasley. He glared at the chocolate cake and then at the giver. "We need to talk. My office in five minutes. Don't keep me waiting."

* * *

Draco sat at his desk and realized that he still had the cake. With a huff, he stabbed his fork into it and shoveled a large chunk into his mouth.

"Manners, Draco! I did not raise you to eat like an animal!" Lucius hissed. Draco resisted the urge to open his mouth and show his father the contents of his mouth. Instead, he grumbled indigently and pushed the plate away and began to think of questions he could ask Weasley. The office door opened and the man entered. Draco, being so anxious, leapt from his chair and bombarded Ron with a, "She doesn't remember me!"

Ron halted in his footsteps, startled by the other wizard's furious and unexpected outburst. His blue eyes were wide and his mouth hung open in question.

"Uh…" he noised.

Draco was aware his words were a bit one dimensional and did place Weasley directly into the furnace instead of gradually beckoning him towards it. Regardless, the younger Malfoy cared little for pleasantries and knew Ron would get the drift eventually. He watched him blink a few times, release the tension in his shoulders, and fold his arms protectively against his chest. His jaw squared in determination and his mouth formed a grim line. His response surprised Draco.

"It's better that way." And then Weasley turned to leave.

"Don't you dare leave! You owe me an explanation," Draco howled.

"I owe you nothing, Malfoy, and neither does she!" the man shouted back.

Weasley stalked out of the office with Draco on his heels. "Come back here! We are not finished!"

Weasley didn't even turn around. He just waved his hand up in the air in a dismissive gesture and walked towards a confused Pansy and his brood at the end of the hallway. He slung an arm around her shoulder and leaned his lips towards her ear and watched them move. Her lips pressed together tightly and nodded with a grimace. It was then when Draco realized there was a conspiracy involving him and Hermione, and he was going to find out everything no matter the cost.

He flung himself back into his office and howled at nothing in particular. He braced himself against the fireplace and glared at the flames. He needed to Floo somebody but was unsure as to whom. Potter, maybe? No, the spectacled git would be just as helpful as Weasley. Perhaps Potter's wife would be more accommodating.

Draco felt a punch of betrayal in his gut. Pansy knew. Blaise knew. Merlin, who else knew? Pathetically, he raised his head up at his father with a near pout gracing his bottom lip. "Did you know?"

He watched his father raise a brow and quirk his lips. "I don't even know what year it is, Draco."

Draco chuckled bitterly and nodded his head. He sniffed and swallowed the thick gall that had formed in his throat. He crossed his arms and rested his head on them, knowing his father was probably staring down at him in disgust and disappointment for tearing up and showing such a dramatic amount of emotion. "Now I'm going to see what Phineas is up to."

Draco watched his father disappear from his portrait before dashing out of his office and through the Manor. He found his mother bidding farewell to the guests in the Reception Hall. Scorpius was at her side and was smiling in appreciation for their company and gifts. Draco wondered if his mother knew anything. He stopped and shook his head for clarity and knew he needed to focus on what was important. His son for instance. And maybe his wife and more specifically, his marriage. Hermione Granger was his past. He needed to be more focused on the present and future. But the girl didn't remember him which irked him terribly. It wasn't right. How come she didn't remember him? Did she bump her head? Did someone throw an _Oblivate_ at her? Merlin, was she just pretending she didn't know him because… because she hated him that much?

Draco knew it wasn't the latter. Hate him, she might, but not enough to flawlessly pretend she didn't know him. Hermione would have been cold towards him and tried to act indifferent. Maybe even ignore him. Her behavior towards him was kind and genuine. She truly had no idea who he was and behaved like she had never seen him before.

Glowering to himself, Draco rested his back against the wall and shoved his hands into his pockets. He needed to put all of his attention on his family right now, but he deserved to know what the hell was going on with Hermione Granger.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you to my readers and reviewers. Hope last chapter was enjoyable and this one is good, too. Tell me what you think if you'd like. R&R, please!

* * *

Draco stood outside Curly Girly's Bookshoppe the next evening. It was a quaint shoppe next to Flourish and Blotts and was where Tea Leaves and Scrolls used to be. It had just recently opened a week prior and was a franchise, there being one in each major magical city in Western Europe and were all owned by H.J. Granger.

He folded up the parchment regarding the business information of his ex-girlfriend and shoved it into his pocket and waited for the shoppe lights to diminish. Right on the dot of nine o' clock, the shoppe's lights flickered off, and he watched from the shadows as Hermione locked up the store and ventured down the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley. She smiled and waved hello to those she passed and stealthily he followed behind and hoped that she would not Apparate which thankfully she didn't. She walked towards the back of the Leaky Cauldron, and Draco knew she was going to Muggle London. He cursed and knew he might lose her if he did not follow closer behind. With a sigh, he stopped following her and watched her disappear. He then Apparated home.

The next night he was prepared. He waited around the corner of Charing Cross Road by the Leaky Cauldron. He was out of his own element because he did not often journey out into the Muggle World. Sometimes he and Blaise would hopscotch around certain Muggle spots but not often.

Ten minutes after nine, Hermione exited the Leaky Cauldron and walked down the sidewalk. Counting to fifteen, Draco followed her as nonchalant as possible. He kept his sight on her always, his eyes often drifting to her denim clad derriere causing him to remember what it looked like without denim. He bit back a moan and let the early November chill overwhelm his heated thoughts.

They did not walk long. Hermione entered a large building, and Draco walked by to catch a glimpse of the place. It was an apartment building—nice and upscale. It probably specialized in studio type flats and penthouse suites. It was a place where the young, rich, and single rested their heads for the night.

Draco travelled down the nearest abandoned alley and Apparated home, directly to his office. His mother sat in the cushioned chair facing the fireplace. He directed his gaze at his father's portrait which was empty. His wie more than likely had told him to leave.

"Mother," Draco acknowledged and shed his blazer and draped it across his chair.

"You're home late, again," Narcissa Malfoy clipped. "Why?"

"You know how work is, Mum," he said and leaned over to kiss his mother's forehead. "Where did father go off to."

"I have no idea. I told him to leave." Narcissa waved her hand dismissively at her late husband's vacant portrait. "And he did."

"Is Scorpius in bed?"

"Yes?"

"Astoria?"

"No." Narcissa sniffed and glared into the flames of the fireplace. "She's not here. Where is she, Draco? I haven't seen her almost a week."

"I believe she is at her sister's visiting" Draco lied and noticed his mother's jaw tick. She nodded her head in acceptance, but he knew better than to think she believed his dishonesty.

He left his mother in the office and made way to his bedroom. He undressed and slipped between the sheets with a disappointed groan and sneered at the empty space next to him. Begrudgingly, the neighboring pillows were shoved off the bed, and Draco scooted his body towards the middle and spread himself out.

The next night, he followed Hermione, again. This time, she did not go directly home. The wizard hesitated when Hermione crossed the street instead going her route home. He trailed behind her as close as he could and watched with interest when she entered a café. He Charmed his hair a simple brown and flipped up the collar of his cloak in an attempt to hide some of his face. He entered the restaurant and took a seat in the corner, watching Hermione sit on a stool at the bar area and order coffee. A waitress came by his table, and he ordered a cuppa and settled back into his seat, taking the time to scrutinize every detail of his ex-girlfriend. The changes he noticed were painful to accept. She had aged noticeably but not with wrinkles or frown lines. To Draco, she had aged subtly like any woman who had yet to be married or have children. The last ten years had been kind her for sure. She was still firm in her feminine places and spry looking. When she walked, she naturally swung her hips with mature confidence telling the those around her she was a girl with buoyancy.

The girl at the bar was so very unlike the girl he had loved years ago. So different. The Hermione he knew did not have a natural hip-swing. But then again, she did not have blonde hair and glasses either.

He frowned at the blonde in her hair and at the straightness of it, the tresses spilling over her shoulders and fell below her blades in a thick curtain, and Draco remembered it had been longer when they had been together, nearly to her bum. He recalled the memory of her complaining often about the heavy curls and only kept it long for him. He had loved her hair lengthy and wild, completely in its natural state.

The glasses made him squeamish and reminded him of Potter, but at the same time suited her, brought out her intelligence that her blonde hair covered. Draco had no idea she had ever needed glasses, and that bothered him extensively. She didn't wear them when they were together, nor did she wear those Muggle contact lenses. As far as he knew, her vision had been perfect.

He sipped his Earl Grey while Hermione sipped her coffee. Bloody hell, she even took that different. With each sip the girl swallowed, she added another sugar packet or creamer. She also kept checking her watch and the clock up on the wall with urgency frowning her lips, like she was trying to verify if the time was actually the time.

Around 9:30, a melodic tune erupted from her coat pocket. Draco watched her fish out a cellular phone, flip it open, and press it to her ear. After a few minutes of conversation, Hermione flipped the phone shut, paid for her coffee, and exited the establishment with him not too far behind. She crossed the street and headed towards her apartment building. He watched her enter the lobby through the glass doors and window and greet those she passed before returning home where he laid awake during the night thinking about who Hermione was talking to on the phone. Odds were Draco didn't even know the person. Not many magical people had cellular phones. From the girl's behavior, she was waiting for this person at the café and had a cancellation at the last minute.

Jealousy tugged at Draco's heartstrings, wondering if she had been waiting for a date. He hoped she hadn't. Perhaps it was her a Muggle friend or her mum. Hermione and her mum were close.

The following night, he refrained from stalking Hermione again. Instead, he Floo-ed over to Pansy's where he found her right in the Living Room laying on the sofa looking half-dead.

"Draco, kill me," whispered Pansy upon his entrance.

"Oh come now, Parkinson. Bucker up. You're almost there," Draco said and sat by Pansy's bare feet. He shifted a little so they fell into his lap. Delicately, he messaged her them and earned a pleased whimper from the woman.

"That feels nice. Mmmm," she sighed happily. "I've been on my feet all day trying to keep the kids from burning down the house."

"You have Fire Resistant Charms coated on the entire property. I don't think you have to worry about charred belongings."

"Somehow Joseph broke through the Charms and distracted the House-elves away from the kitchen and…I'm sure you can see where this is going."

"I believe so. Where's the Weasel?" Draco asked.

"He's with Potter. They're on some case or other in Germany. I didn't want him to leave so close to the baby being born, but you know how Gryffindors are."

"And the Little Weasels?"

"Sleeping. It's bloody not fair. I want to sleep, but this one's keeping me up with the kicking and the twirling and the pissing."

Draco chuckled and deepened his ministration on her foot. He smiled approvingly at the Slytherin green nail polish adorning her toes with the sparkly, silver swirls. Guilt churned in his stomach for what he was about to do, but it really had been too perfect to find Pansy without the care of her husband and in such a delicate and barefooted state. He gripped the top of her foot with one hand and dug his thumb into the sole with the other.

"Pansy?" Draco sing-songed.

"Hmmm?" Pansy hummed, her eyes closed.

"I ran into Granger the other day."

Expectedly, Pansy's blue eyes fluttered open and a perfect mask of shock appeared on her face.

"Really? I didn't know she was back in England."

Draco nodded but caught her lie. "It appears so, and she was looking well. Sounding well." His thumb stopped prodding into her sole and gently swiped up the middle part with his nail. Her knee jerked and her foot spasm-ed.

"Draco." Pansy's voice rose in warning.

"What do you know, Pansy?" Draco's voice lowered threateningly as he wiggled his thumb in promise. The witch flung daggers with her eyes at him and flared her nostrils with promise of revenge.

"I have no idea as to what you are talking about."

Draco raised an eyebrow and pricked the tip of his thumb at the heel of Pansy's foot. She tried to wiggle her leg away, but his strong hold kept her foot still.

"Are you sure?" His digit raised a fraction and Pansy whined.

"Please don't," she begged. Undeterred, Draco dragged his thumb another fraction evoking a teeth gritted hiss out of Pansy. She glared at him and lifted her heavy upper half to her hands. "_Draco!_"

"Tell me, Parkinson," Draco demanded.

"I have nothing to say," Pansy forced out.

"I am sorry then," Draco apologized before whipping his thumb up and down the sensitive flesh of her foot. She squirmed and gasped for breath.

"Stop, please. Draco! I will hex you, I swear on Salazar's name!"

"Where's your wand?" Draco chuckled and added his forefinger to the mix. "Now tell me everything."

"You bastard!" Pansy wheezed. "Pee on you, I will. I'll give birth right here and now! I'll force you to watch me give birth! You thought you were so lucky to miss Scorpius' arrival! I bask at the thought of you never wanting to touch another woman ever again!"

"Tell me, Pansy, and I will stop."

"I can't! I promised!" Pansy griped

"Did you take a Wizarding Oath?"

"No!"

"Did you participate in an Unbreakable Vow?"

"No!"

"Then you can tell me."

"No!"

"Then I won't stop."

A torturous sob escaped Pansy, startling Draco out of his ministrations. His hands flew away from her foot and lifted her leg, so he could get off the couch. He knelt down by her form and studied her, wondering if he hurt her somehow. When he realized her sobs were more sorrowful painful, he felt a little relief. However, tear after tear escaped Pansy, and Draco had no idea what to do or how to fix it.

"Pans, I'm sorry," he offered. She shook her head and waved her arm at him indicating she wanted his help. He helped her to her feet. When she was steady, she braced her hands on his shoulders and sighed deeply before pushing him with all her might. With sad eyes and a triumphant smirk, she watched him fall to ground right on his arse.

"What the-" Draco started as he climbed back up to his feet and rubbed his sore bum with his hand.

"You deserved that, you slimy prat!" Pansy screeched and dabbed at her eyes with the sides of her palms and sniffled. Draco briefly wondered if she had faked the tears in order for him to stop but saw the genuine reluctance in his friend's eyes.

A long moment of silence passed between them, before Draco summoned up the courage to speak. "Please tell me."

"Draco…" she started and shook her head from left to right."I can't."

"Please," he begged. "I deserve to know."

Pansy sighed and placed her hands on her belly. "That's up for debate, I'm afraid."

"What does that mean?" Draco scoffed.

"It means nothing. Go home, Draco. Go to sleep. Forget about, Granger."

"Funny, Blaise said the same thing," Draco grumbled and folded his arms. "If you don't tell me, I will go to Potter's. I'm not nearly as fond of the She-Weasel as I am of you, so I will probably use my wand on her to get all the information I need."

"And how are you going to get passed the wards? Hmm?" Pansy inquired with a small smirk.

"Details," Draco shot back with a smirk of his own which faded quickly back into a serious grim line. "Now tell me everything."

Pansy suddenly looked even more strained than she did before. Awkwardly, she let herself fall back on the sofa and let the soft cushion envelope her once more. She propped her feet up on the coffee table in front of her and tossed the blonde an unreadable expression before turning her head left to right.

"No. I can't do that. I promised."

"Promised who exactly and about what?" Draco pressed.

"Don't try to trap me in my words, Draco. I know you are good at doing that, but not nearly as good as you think you are. Your subtlety has diminished rapidly in your old age."

Draco saw what Pansy was trying to do, starting a fight by insulting his lack of sensible, Slytherin qualities. His pride demanded that he fight back by verbally pinpointing every inadequacy about his female friend but refrained from following through. He needed to keep his eye on the prize.

"Please, Pansy. Tell me something. Anything."

Pansy sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and gnawed on it pensively for a moment before letting loose a deep, aggravated breath. "Fine, I will tell you that Hermione Granger doesn't remember you, and I am aware of it and have been for…a while."

Draco replayed the words in his head over and over again, searching for a tell. All he could extract was Pansy's hesitancy at the end. She had known for a while…but not always? That could mean anything. He chose the pathway of perhaps Pansy had once been out of the loop, as well, at one point in time meaning that whoever she made a promise to was not to Hermione Granger. It was mostly likely to her husband.

"I need to know more. Like all who knows. How did Blaise know? How did this happen?" Draco pushed.

"I promised," she said, shaking her head from left to right.

"I'm your best friend. You should tell me."

Pansy blanched at his words before shaking her head no once more. "No, Sweetheart, you're not. Ron's my best friend, and I promised him."

In Draco's third year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger slapped him good and proper right across the face, her small but determined fingers connecting with his cheek, dragging harshly across his young face, and breaking his nose. Putting it plainly, it had hurt and not just physically. His pride and dignity lowered quite a bit. Though he had eventually gained most of that back within the next few years, it was a well-known fact that Draco Malfoy had been beaten by a girl. That temporary and humiliating downfall did not hold a candle to what he felt at that moment standing like a discarded puppy in Pansy's Living Room. His first girlfriend, his best friend from childhood had betrayed him for a Weasley.

"Oh, Draco," Pansy's voice softened. "Don't look at me like that. You know I love you, but Ronald's my husband, and I love him more and in a completely different way. You're married. You should understand."

He didn't, and Draco loathed the thought. Understand? Understand what? Marriage? Commitment? Promises simply bound by love and trust?

Rubbish!

"I have to leave," whispered Draco and started towards the Floo. "Obviously you can't help me. I apologize for intruding in more ways than one."

Before he tossed the Floo Powder, Pansy called out to him. "I will say that it's better this way, and you should leave Granger alone. She's not going to be here for much longer."

"What do you mean?"

"She owns the Curly Girly Bookshoppes which are all over Magical Western Europe. Every time she opens a new store, she moves and sets up her business up, hires and trains employees, and then moves on."

Draco said nothing but gave a curt nod and Floo-ed back home to his office. He stepped out of the fireplace and turned to face his father who pursed his lips at his son's attention.

"What should I do, Father?"

"Well," Lucius scoffed. "Given if I even was aware of what you are talking about, you know what I would do. The question is, boy," he quirked his brow challengingly, "are you willing to go that far?"

Staring pensively into the flames, the younger Malfoy mulled over his father's words before pinning his gaze on his the portrait and answered.

"Yes."


	3. Chapter 3

Draco watched from the shadows as Hermione passed her apartment building, yet again, but did not cross the street like she was considering returning to the café. Keeping her in sight at all times, she unknowingly led him to the front of an ice cream parlor all too familiar to Draco. Merlin, he couldn't believe the run down store Hermione used to drag him to was still up and running. Ten years ago, the shoppe had only needed a sneeze to break the brittle boards holding up the roof. Now the parlor stood strong with painted concrete walls and decent landscaping to giving the image of allure to those walking by.

Hermione had loved this place. It was her favorite place to acquire frozen dessert in all of London, and something within Draco fluttered in relief. Not everything had changed about her.

She did not go into the shoppe right away. Instead, Draco watched her linger a few feet in front of the establishment and dig inside her purse and pull out a lighter and a cigarette for a little smoke reprieve.

Draco leaned against the brick siding half a block away, his own hands and mouth itching for the kicked habit. He had tried it back in Hogwarts his Eighth year, the repeated year since his Seventh was so bloody fantastic. His schoolmate, Theo Nott, had offered between classes in the boys' loo, and Draco hadn't been able to kick the habit until Astoria got pregnant. She had loudly screeched at him to quit because she had to, as well.

The cigarette in Hermione's mouth was decreasing in length, and the wizard wondered what flittered across her mind every time she lit up. Because after all, Draco was the one who got the girl hooked in the first place. If she couldn't remember him, did she even remember her first smoke?

Once finished, Hermione flicked the cigarette to the ground and stubbed it with her shoe before entering the ice cream parlor. He seized the opportunity and followed her.

"What a surprise," drawled Draco as he approached Hermione, who was reading a well-worn book with a medium sized bowl of…

Draco narrowed his eyes and observed the strawberry ice cream with frozen raspberry chunks and chopped pecans with dubiety.

She peeled her eyes away from the pages, but Draco had become distracted by her choice of frozen dessert to notice he got her attention. Her favorite was cookie dough, especially from that particular ice cream shop. He distinctly remember her saying early in their relationship that her favorite had _always_ been chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

"Mr. Malfoy," Hermione's brown eyes widened in surprise, and Draco provided a strained smile to disguise his utter discomfort being near her. Never had he felt such need to run the other direction of her since Third Year. Gathering his nerves and locking them away, he motioned to the chair across from her.

"Is this seat taken?"

"Uh…" Hermione blinked owlishly and hesitated a brief moment before answering properly. "No. No, it's not. Sit down if you'd like."

A smirk slid across his features and situated himself across from her with his own ice cream. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Hermione said and dog-eared the page of her book and closed it slowly, like she was unsure whether to keep it open or not.

"What book are you reading, may I ask, Miss Granger?"

"Oh. Um…" A light blush crept upon the milky skin of her cheeks making Draco swallow roughly. Great Merlin, she was so pretty. He shoved away the urge to caress her face and dive into the dark pools of chocolate she called eyes. They were as lovely as ever. Though the blonde in her hair was hard to look at; the locks contrasted artistically with her maroon framings, dark lashes, and eye color. "_The Tragic History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus_ by Christopher Marlowe. It's a play written by a Muggle. It's rather good."

"I've read it," answered Draco truthfully. It had been a decade, but read it, he had. He eyed the book and recognized it as the same one she had let him borrow not long after they had started dating. "I like it, as well."

The corners of Hermione's mouth lifted into a small smile and her eyes flickered to his ice cream cup.

"Cookie dough?" she inquired. "That's a good a choice. Strawberry is my favorite, though, as you can see." She gestured to her own cup. "Is cookie dough yours?"

"Uh…Y-Yes. It's my favorite."

"It used to be mine, too, when I was younger. I like strawberry now, though. It's funny how things change as we grow older."

Draco stared at her for a long moment. He watched as she picked up her pink spoon and shoveled some of her ice cream into her mouth, mesmerized at seeing her lick the spoon clean and then her lips.

"I think it's funnier when they don't," murmured Draco, distracted by Hermione's tongue and lips. Draco was torn out of his stupor at noticing her eyes narrowing and then travelling from the top of his head and downward.

"Everyone changes, Mr. Malfoy. Can you honestly say you are the same person as you were back at Hogwarts?"

A beat passed between them, and Draco had to remember that she was not being rhetorical. She really had no idea and, therefore, was asking because she making conversation and probably wanted to know the answer.

"No," whispered the wizard, his eyes falling to the woman's mouth once more.

"You keep staring at my mouth, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said in an amused, breathy tone.

"It's distracting," he said before he could catch himself. He inwardly groaned. This night was not going how he imagined it would be. He had planned to be friendly and ask questions about her past, likes and dislikes, etc. He needed to know why she didn't remember him. He was fully aware that she didn't even know why she couldn't place his memory, but he had to start somewhere.

"Oh." She blinked a couple of times, and he expected another blush to creep up her neck and flush her face, but it never came. He racked his brain on what to say next when Hermione leaned forward and smiled. Draco leaned back in his chair, and his heart began to speed up in rhythm. Her teeth were exposed, white and straight, the dimple below the corner of her mouth quite prominent. The smile itself was quite pretty; however, it was her eyes that made him gulp in uneasiness. They were downright predatory. He had never seen that expression upon her features, not even when they were together.

Draco knew he should leave. This was not his Hermione. This was not the girl he had fallen in love with when he was just a boy trying to figure life out and thought he could live it his own way. That Hermione would have blushed and squirmed in her seat, or even chastised him for being so bold in a public place. He had loved her shyness and childlike naivety. It had balanced out his boldness and arrogance…for a while at least.

Hermione's fingers lifted to her glasses and removed them slowly from her face before placing the tip of the left side temple on her bottom lip. She really shouldn't have done that, Draco mused, because the glasses had somewhat softened her determined features. Without those specs, she looked capable of rape.

"So Mr. Malfoy…my place or yours?"

* * *

What the bloody hell had he been thinking?

Draco stared wide-eyed and up at the dimly lit ceiling of Hermione Granger's bedroom in her flat and swallowed nervously. With hesitation crammed deeply into his neck muscles, he slowly craned his head to the side and…snapped it back.

She was awake.

And staring at him.

With a sheet barely covering her nudity.

"You seem distracted, Mr. Malfoy," he heard her say, a grin loud and clear in her voice. Once again, he turned his focus on her. She had her head propped up on her fist, and she was lying on her side. "Are you thinking about your wife?"

Draco flinched.

His wife?

"Your ring," Hermione smirked knowingly.

Draco tore his eyes away from her and placed them on the ceiling once more. Merlin, he felt sick. Not because he cheated on his wife because what he and Astoria had was far from a legit marriage, but because Hermione had willingly gone to bed with him knowing he was married. Bloody hell, she knew he had a child and still she invited him over for a night of fun.

Swallowing the bile lingering at the back of his throat, he sat up and leaned over the side of the bed to fetch his boxers.

"I have to go," he managed out, his eyes focused on the black material of his underwear as he slid them on, reaching for his trousers.

"Okay," he heard from behind him. The way she said it made him think she shrugged, too, like she completely expected him to leave so soon. He just got there an hour ago. It wasn't even midnight, yet, not even eleven.

He slipped on his wristwatch and let out a disgusted sigh. It was 10:25.

"I'll uh…" Draco started awkwardly, buckling up his belt and searching the floor for his socks. "I'll Owl you."

"Why?"

His fingers froze at her question. He let himself look at her—brown eyes curious with an arched brow. She really wanted an answer to the question.

"B-because," Draco sputtered.

"So you want to do this again?" Hermione asked with curt nod. "Okay."

"Well… I don't-"

She laughed and fell back against the mattress, stretching out languidly. Draco's eyes fell to her exposed calves as they rubbed together enticingly. Her blonde hair fanned out on her pillow, and her light blue sheet and comforter covered all the important parts of her anatomy. His eyes lazily slid up her form and stopped at her hair and could see some of the strands beginning to curl. "I don't expect you to Owl me, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco vaguely heard what she said. Unfortunately, his attention was still on her exposed, olive hued skin and the sprinkles of freckles scattered about. Disappointed, he pressed his lips together to bite back a scoff. Hermione must've yielded to the trend like many witches and regularly use Muggle Ultra Violet booths to maintain a darker skin tone. Her natural skin color was a besotting creamy hue.

"What are you staring at?" the witch asked.

"Nothing." Draco's eyes darted away, and he finished buckling his belt. "I have to go."

"You said that already. And it's probably for the best. My boyfriend's going to be here in about hour."

Aghast from Hermione's words, Draco's eyes leapt out his skull and a deep frown formed on his lips. He shook his head and let out a mirthless chuckle. Who the hell was this girl wearing Hermione Granger's body and dying her hair? This was not how he had planned things. He wanted to talk to Blaise and fast. Who he really needed to talk to, though, was Ginny Potter.

Draco fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and then tucked the shirttails in. He slipped on his shoes and wanted to leave badly, but he couldn't just go without saying a few more words.

"W-we should…talk," Draco offered though he didn't really want to. He was just trying to be polite, though Salazar only knew why. This new Hermione wasn't a truly polite person.

He snatched up his cloak that was draped across her vanity and chanced looking at her once more. Her eyes were half-closed and her breathing lazy and uneven. Salazar and shite, she was about to fall asleep! Did she not care at all that he was being an utter ponce by being a married man, that she was in a relationship, and he was running away moments after intercourse?

"Now?" her voice was low and sleepy with her brows pressed together.

"No. Some other time. We can talk…about stuff."

She licked her lips tiredly and smacked them together. With a huff, she turned on her side into the fetal position. "We don't have to."

"Come again?" Draco said, unsure of what he heard.

"I'm not a stupid, silly girl, Mr. Malfoy. You shouldn't treat me like one."

"I wasn't t-" he tried to get in, taken back by her behavior.

"I know you won't Owl me."

"Wh-wh-"

"They never do, and that's okay." Her shoulders jumped in a little shrug and the left corner of her mouth tugged upwards. "It's…sweet that you're trying to be nice, but I really don't expect anything. We both got what we wanted tonight, and we're both technically taken."

With that said, Draco watched slack-jawed as Hermione rolled over and closed her eyes. "You can let yourself out. Apparate, walk, doesn't matter. Just turn off the light when you leave."

And so he did.

Draco Apparated into his office, startling his father's portrait a bit. Lucius raised a brow at his son's disheveled appearance.

"Draco," said the late Malfoy.

"Father," mumbled Draco and shirked his cloak and draped it over the sofa before taking a seat at his desk. He brought his hands to his face and messaged everywhere before running them roughly through his hair.

"You seem…off." Lucius' voice was not gentle, but there was the tiniest hint of worry laced around his words. "Whatever is the matter?"

Draco stayed silent, letting his father's voice wash over him. He missed him very much. The portrait was not enough to replace the real man. True, they hardly got along in life and certainly not in death, but the youngest Malfoy longed for the physical side of his patriarch. He supposed he could go to his mother who would treat him like he was once again a child and pet his hair and coo at him; however, he really needed a father's touch on this. A pat on the back, a side embrace, and the masculine words of comfort were things Draco really craved at that moment. Blaise could help, maybe, but once Draco told the man of where he spent his evening, his best friend might just cast an Unforgivable on him.

"I've done something stupid, Father," Draco said petulantly, avoiding eye contact with Lucius.

"I'm afraid, son, that I cannot help you in my current state." Annoyance weaved the words of Lucius', and Draco let out a harsh chuckle.

"I did not ask for help. I simply said that I've done something stupid."

"You were always good at that. Let me assume you've gotten yourself in a spot of trouble with your mistress."

Draco shot his father a look of astonishment and incredulity. "I don't have a mistress."

He then thought of Hermione and what happened merely not even an hour before. She wasn't his mistress. In fact, she wasn't anything. They weren't even really friends. She didn't remember him at all, so she didn't know him. Yet, when he made the mistake of being distracted by her attractiveness, she pounced on him. The woman had little care as to taking him home with her and shagging his brains out knowing that they were both in relationships. She didn't even look hurt when he left her quickly after their tryst. If he were to be honest with himself, she was expecting it and even pushed for his absence. And the way she was speaking was entirely casual like she had done this before, taking strange strangers to bed all the time and sending them on their way before her beau returned.

A wave a jealousy, disgust, and disappointment crashed into Draco. Jealous of all the men that Hermione let herself be touched by. Disgust, for Hermione letting herself be dragged into promiscuity and infidelity. Disappointment, because Hermione had lost the self-respecting behavior of the girl Draco had fallen in love with many years prior. She was the girl that treasured morality, ethics, and rules like she did books.

A tightening sensation embraced Draco's heart painfully. All that could comfort him was the thought of Granger still loving books. The notion was a beacon of hope that somewhere deep down beneath that straight blonde hair and behind those glasses was where the real Hermione Jean Granger dwelt.

Pushing his sullen behavior aside, Draco determinedly grabbed a blank piece of parchment and a quill. Once finishing his letter, he summoned his House-elf to take the letter to the Owlery. He then poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey and spared a glance at the clock and cringed. Ginevra Potter would not be appreciative of the letter being sent so late.


	4. Chapter 4

"_Draco!_"

Draco's eyes flew open and saw his mother standing at the foot of his bed looking quite frazzled.

"What's wrong?" he rasped, his voice gravelly from sleep.

"That horrid Weasley girl has just Floo-ed in and is yelling like a madwoman for you!" Narcissa exclaimed with her hands waving about. "You know…Harry Potter's wife; Pansy's sister-in-law."

Draco frowned in confusion. Sure, he sent the letter pretty late last night, but was it really necessary to for the woman to show up shouting obscenities. Had she no self-control?

Throwing off his bed covers, he shooed his mother away so he could quickly wash and dress. He ventured down the hallway, passing his son in the process who was rubbing his tiny fists into his eyes.

"Father, I thought I heard yelling," the boy grumbled sleepily.

Draco patted his Scorpius on the head and bent down to kiss his forehead.

"It's alright, my boy. Go get washed and dressed, and I'll have Mippy make some eggs for you this morning. Would you like that?"" The older Malfoy mumbled into the younger one's hair.

Scorpius sullenly nodded and raised his arms, indicating he wanted to be held. Despite being pressed for time, (there were few things worse than keeping a Weasley waiting but not many), Draco scooped up his son and held him, pressing a kiss to his round cheek. The boy dropped his head on his father's shoulder, and Draco smiled at the deep sigh his son out, the puff of breath breezing past his neck. The man was almost tempted to bring him with to meet Ginny, knowing she would not have the heart to hex him with an adorable child in his arms.

Draco rubbed his hand on the boy's back and heard and felt a yawn escape the youngster's mouth.

"I love you, Daddy," Scorpius whispered. The tightening in his chest that seemed to get more and more taught each second he thought about Hermione, loosened at the simple yet powerful declaration from his boy.

"I love you, too," he said as he laid another kiss on the boy's cheek.

"Don't leave me like Mummy did."

"I'll never leave," Draco promised, rubbing the side of his face against the boy's bedhead. "You'll never be able to get rid of me.

A treacherously, deep sadness overcame Draco. His son's plea had completely pulverized him. However, the sadness only lasted moments before scalding anger replaced it. He cursed Astoria for leaving their son. Draco could handle the woman leaving him. He had reckoned not long after their nuptials she would eventually, but it irked him terribly she left Scorpius. Not that he would let the woman take his son with her forever, but she should have stuck around for some negotiating and at least pretend to care about her progeny. Draco huffed and was glad he and his wife only had one child; however, he could not help but scold himself for not even trying in their joke of a marriage. His and Astoria's wedding vows were a nicety and had both known it. Their marriage was about respect and conceiving a Pureblood male heir to eventually inherit the Malfoy money.

Draco may have never loved his wife, but he respected her and did like her in some ways. She was a warm body to cuddle up to at night and was pretty but not the smoothest wand in the shop. He never made her feel insecure about her lack of sense and always tried to be considerate; though, she often forgot a lot of important things like birthdays, specifically her son's. In Scorpius' life, his mother had only attended one of his birthdays and that was his first because she needed to be close by for the Pureblood duty of breastfeeding. The five birthdays before this past one, she forgot and Draco believed it. She had no sense for time or dates because Astoria refused to be bothered with someone else's schedule. Not even her son's. She operated the way she did because no one taught her to think any different. The girl's mum was the same way.

"Go get dressed." Draco set his son down on the floor who looked up at with big eyes and a protruding bottom lip. "None of that now."

"Okay," sighed his son and disappear into his bedroom.

Divorce papers and Scorpius clogging his mind, Draco albeit screamed when a vibrantly dangerous spark whizzed past him upon entering the Main Room. There stood Ginny Potter looking capable of homicide. Her ginger hair, swept back into a messy ponytail, matched the color of her normally pale skin. A simple grey button up sweater adorned her arms with a yellow shirt underneath, finished off with those trending Muggle jeans everyone seemed to be wearing.

The wizard's eyes narrowed on the tummy bump Mrs. Potter was sporting. She had to be about four to five months along. Was this number three for her and Potter?

"Please refrain from killing me in my own home, Mrs. Potter." Draco sauntered over to the growling witch. As he grew closer, the woman's grip on her wand tightened, the skin of her hand turning white from lack of circulation.

"Malfoy, I've come kill you! I bloody don't care if I spill your incestuous, bigoted blood all across the property!" she hissed out between gritted teeth.

Draco paused in mid-step at her plan, taken aback by her fury. Yes, the Owl probably woke her up, but that was no reason to take a life in such a graphic way.

"I know it was late. I shouldn't have sent the letter last night. I should have waited," said Draco in a calm and slow voice, the witch bristling and baring her teeth at his words.

"This isn't about the late Owl, you arse!" she forced out harshly making Draco's brows scrunch towards each other. "This is about Hermione!"

"Oh. I suppose your brother or Pansy told you that I spoke to her the other day and-"

"Spoke to her?!" the woman spat and cackled in lunacy causing Draco to take a step back and swallow.

"Uh…"

"Spoke to her?!" she repeated and sucked in a breath like she was preparing to verbally dig into Draco's flesh. He took another step back, and Ginny took a step forward.

"Hermione and I had breakfast early this morning. We often get together when we can, and she tells me everything, you know? I'm her best friend. She tells me about books, clothes, hair products, and _men._" She paused and shot him a scathing look, and he knew where this was going. He stole glances to his sides, trying to find route for escaping.

"I must admit, Malfoy, Hermione has had quite the number of conquests within the last decade. I don't necessarily approve of her willingness or her penchant for cheating, but she's a grown woman and can make her own choices no matter how debauched they are. Furthermore, she tells me all about the men she's taken home. Some good, some bad, some okay, and some _horrid_." Ginny gave him a pointed look, and Draco was insulted. He was not horrid! He was a Malfoy for Merlin's sake!

"So to my surprise, she tells me she was eating ice cream last night in her favorite Muggle parlor when lo and behold a Mr. Draco Malfoy _happens_ to shows up with obvious intention to bed her. And yes, she told me all about how you came into her bookstore the other day."

"I had no intention to bed Hermione," Draco defended weakly and earned an eye roll from Ginny who lowered her wand and crossed her arms.

"I don't believe you."

"She propositioned me and was quick to, may I add?"

Ginny stared at him for a moment before nodding gently. "Fine, but that doesn't excuse you for going along with it. You had no business in talking to her, Malfoy. You gave up that right a long time ago."

"Why doesn't she remember me?" Draco asked quietly causing Ginny stiffen.

"I can't tell you that," she replied in a whisper, shaking her head solemnly. Her demeanor was starting to lax, all the anger and yelling tuckering out her pregnant body quickly.

"Please." Draco chanced a step toward the witch who threatened to kill him only moments before. Her light brown eyes, which had been staring off into some distant corner, snapped back to him. She clenched her teeth together and stood rigid, her eyes hardening once more.

"You know, Malfoy. You hurt her a lot when you broke things off with her, and if I ever find out you went near her again, they will never find your body." Ginny lifted her wand threateningly. "I promise you that."

Draco watched Ginny leave. When she disappeared through the Floo, he let out a deep breath and ran an aggravated hand through his hair. He turned to walk towards his office, needing to assemble his briefcase before going into work, his thoughts a million miles away from his occupation, though. He was actually mulling over what happened with Weasley and what happened with Hermione and decided he had no intention of ever contacting the former again. Not just because her best friend threatened to kill him but because Ginny had been promising to do that for years. Draco merely didn't care to be around around his ex-girlfriend anymore. The thought made him queasy. Hermione was too different, too slaggy, too forward, too…blonde. Even the way she shagged was different. Not terrible, just not like the witch he knew. This Hermione had been aggressive and loud with no indication she wanted post-coital cuddles which was very unlike the old Hermione. The old Hermione was pure, sweet, and gentle. She basked in the lovemaking kind of intercourse and remembered every time he had wanted a little love from her, he had to go through the process of seduction. She made him earn it every. Single. Time. Sure, it had frustrated him endlessly, but he had loved himself stupid about her. He turned into a bleeding moron who recited ooey-gooey poetry and spread rose petals on silk sheets, only to get fully clothed snuggles from her half the time.

Draco gagged at the memory. The only reason he let himself get so Hufflepuff about the relationship was because of Hermione's taste in romance who basked in the slow seduction process and would succumb to his advances at her decided pace. Merlin, he had loved her and loved sex and was faithful, so he had to make do with Hermione's fickle 'permission to enter _sometimes_' technique.

Hermione had been difficult to bed, but Draco had been fine with that for the most part. It meant that she saw sex with him as a special occasion and took her relationship with him with whole-hearted seriousness. By making him earn a shag rather than simply dishing it out often made him appreciate her and their sex life in return.

No, he would not contact Hermione again. However, he was still going to find out why she did not remember him.

_Seven weeks later…_

"So, do you have any New Year Resolutions planned, Draco?" asked Pansy as he adjusted her one month old baby in a blanket.

"Not really," Draco distractedly replied while tapping the tip of his quill on the parchment before him.

"You should make some," she suggested and held out the baby towards him across from his desk. Pansy had decided to visit him during his lunch, bringing him a turkey sandwich, fruit, and pudding. "Do you want to hold her?"

"A byproduct of a Weasley and a Parkinson, I think not." Draco feigned horror, earning a glare from her.

"C'mon, Draco. She's darling. I've waited so long and finally got my girl. She's perfect, aren't you, Hunny Bunny? Huh? Huh?" Pansy cooed and snuggled her face into the infant's neck and inhaled deeply before planting wet smooches on the soft newborn skin. The baby slept through her mother's affection, causing a snort to erupt from the Draco.

"I better not. I don't want that oaf of a husband of yours casting a Slicing Hex on my hands for daring to touch his precious newborn princess with my disgusting Death Eater digits."

Pansy rolled her eyes and wrapped her lips around the top of the baby's left ear and nibbled. Draco narrowed his eyes at the action. "What are you doing?"

"I can't help it, Draco. Babies make women do weird things. It's all instinct, so don't think I've gone mental or something"

"You have, hello. Did you not give birth to your seventh child a month ago?"

"I really wanted a girl," Pansy defended with a snarl before transforming her features into happy, awestruck face at her daughter. "And you were worth the wait, weren't you, Rosie Posy?"

"Merlin, _Avada_ me now." Draco muttered and cast his gaze to the ceiling.

"Oh, hush! Like you don't go gaga over Scorpius?" Pansy shot back and then sighed. "How is he taking Astoria's never-ending absence, by the way?"

"He's quiet about it, actually. I can tell he misses her, but I'm confident he will be okay. She was always gone, anyway. This will just be more…permanent."

Pansy nodded her head in silence and cast her gaze elsewhere. "Okay then, I've just made everything incredibly awkward, so I'm going to go and bother Ronald at his work. Molly's watching the kids, so I'm going to bask in the few moments I have with silence and conversations that don't involve me screaming my head off at the boys."

Draco waved goodbye as Pansy snuggly embraced her baby to her chest.

"You will be at the New Year's Party, right?" Draco asked her and she nodded with a smile before Disapparating.

Draco leaned back into his chair and turned his attention to the papers before him. He rubbed his chin in thought. Simply extracting memories and storing them would not work. There were too many of them and would leave gaps. Some of Hermione's Hogwarts history would not make sense to her if that happened. Besides, who would go through the trouble of doing that? The person would have to do _Legilimency_ on her to know which memory to extract and an _Obliviate_ would not work. It could not erase a single person from one's history. It had to be the work of a potion.

Draco messaged his jaw pensively and exhaled loudly.

Perhaps Hermione had been in a potion brewing accident of some kind.

Draco tapped his quill again and scratched the top of his head, making his hair stick out in disarray.

If it was an accident while brewing a potion, to cause memory loss, those ingredients would most likely be found in Knockturn Alley or out of the country.

Draco had lightly studied the Dark Arts but had not practiced in well over a decade. Nevertheless, he knew it was nearly impossible to get accidental memory loss from a potion unless the brewer was purposely brewing a controversial concoction. Hermione would have had to illegally obtain the ingredients and assemble them, but she would have never done that. If by the small chance in in a cold retched hell she had, she would have done it right. She was impeccable at Potions, so her memory loss was no accident. Someone had done this to her on purpose, but the questions were who and why and to gain what exactly? Draco also needed the name of the specific potion Hermione had ingested, so he could brew a counteragent if there was one. Ron and Pansy could go fly a faulty broom for all he cared. It was not better that she couldn't remember him because if he had to have the memories, Hermione should have them, too. Besides, it would be like curing her from a disease. Having memory loss is always upsetting. She'd be so grateful to remember. They may be even able to become sort of friends.

The memory cure would maybe, but unlikely, change the witch's wild ways, and Draco was still squeamish about the woman. He was fine with curing her and sending her on her way. She'd leave soon—open a bookstore some place, somewhere—and they would probably Owl each other like at Christmas and birthdays. If she ever found a bloke who could persuade her to settle the hell down and be faithful to, he may even get an announcement or perhaps an invite to the wedding. Hell, he might even actually go and shake the groom's hand.

But first things first, Draco needed to see someone who specialized in Potions.


	5. Chapter 5

"Draco, I got your Owl." Severus Snape said while he folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. He was sitting behind his desk in his home office with parchment strewn out before him. "What is it that I can help you with?"

"Hello, Severus." Draco said while taking a seat across from his Godfather. "I hope you are well."

"Though pleasantries are considered acceptable behavior, it would be best if he we skipped all that. I have papers to correct, and may I say that I do believe children are becoming more inadequate with each generation?"

Draco chuckled lightly but then turned serious. "I need information on a potion that can completely erase a single person from one's memory."

A pregnant pause passed between the two wizards, and the elder rewarded the younger wizard with an arched brow and said, "I believe you are talking about _Memoria Obscurare_. That potion," Severus paused, "is illegal. It's nearly impossible to buy the ingredients."

"What are the ingredients? And is there a counter potion? A concoction that can reverse the effects? And if so, what are the ingredients for that?" Draco asked.

Severus Snape had an excellent poker face, nearly flawless, Draco mused, but the pinky on his left hand twitched. That twitch was all Draco needed to know that his Godfather and former Potions Master was intrigued.

"I am not your legal advisor, Draco, but I cannot suggest that you go meandering about trying to brew this potion. You do not need a stint in Azkaban."

"Even if I were to brew the potion, I would not be so sloppy in my actions to get caught, Severus. Now please tell me all you know about _Memoria_ _Obscurare_. If you don't…well…you already gave me the name, and that's all I need really. I'm sure that I can find what I'm looking for in my library. I would just really appreciate the assistance from a professional like yourself."

Severus stared at him long and penetratingly and before Draco could even catch onto what the man was doing, it was too late.

"I hate it when you do that," Draco said quietly.

"I do not do it to hurt you. I do it to protect you. You are troubling when you get an idea int your head," said Snape.

Draco stayed silent, his gaze on his lap like chastised child.

"So…" Severus spoke slowly. "The Miss-Know-It-All cannot place you in her memory, and you're peeved."

"She needs her memories restored. If you can't help me with _Memoria Obscurare,_ will you tell me if there is a counteragent?"

"Why?" Severus asked, sparkling hints of amusement in his eyes.

"Because!" the younger wizard balked. "She needs to remember."

"And why does she need to remember, Draco?"

Draco blinked in befuddlement and contorted his features in dubiety. "Memory loss is a terrible ordeal. I'm curing her of this mishap. Something or someone did this to her. I'm helping her."

"Draco," Severus began and straightened in his seat, his hands clasping together like he was getting ready to lecture a pubescent boy on the birds and the bees. "Your limited memories of Miss Granger in the last two months lead me to believe that she is fine. You make it sound like she is suffering an illness, but yet the girl smiles and goes about her daily life. Are you sure she is in need of a memory restoration, or are you just irked that she has no recollection of you whatsoever, and you find that a blow to your ego?"

"Severus-" Draco tried to interject, but the older man was quicker.

"I understand that I gave you too much information. It was my mistake to give you the name of the potion in the first place. To amend my misgiving, I will say that you _need_ to refrain yourself from getting in contact with Miss Granger at all. Leave her alone, Draco. Sever communication with her entirely. She wasn't good for you before, and it would be worse now by tenfold. Let her go on with life, and you will go on with yours. For once in your existence, Draco, think of someone besides yourself. You have a son who needs all of your attention. At his age, he is most impressionable. I assume he is having a difficult time with his mother's absence. You will regret not spending more time with him when you had the chance, especially when he needed you the most."

With his expression akin to something close to a slapped fish, Draco felt like an utter prat. For weeks he poured his energy into discovering Hermione's root of memory loss when he could have been targeting that time on his son. Once upon a time, he loved the witch, but his son crushed everyone in comparison. Astoria may have come in the first five of her own list, but Scorpius came in the first ten on Draco's. Yet, his pride stung, but he needed a reminder on what was most important.

* * *

"You look smashing, Scorpius," Draco complimented his son who was dressed in the sleek new dress robes he got for Christmas. The boy was standing in front of his bedroom mirror straightening his bowtie, and Draco watched from the doorframe.

"Can I stay up until midnight, Father?" Scorpius asked and turned around to face him with childish hope on his baby face.

"If you can," Draco said and extended his hand at his son who walked over and took it with his own. "Are you ready?"

"I suppose I can't look any better, "the boy said in a self-aggrandizing way with his nose in the air. Draco chuckled and leaned down to kiss the boy's nose who whined out, "Daddy!" and wiped his nose with his free hand but smiled impishly anyway.

The Reception Hall was already full of guests when Draco and his son arrived. His son abandoned him at the top of the stairs, most likely rushing to gather a bunch of children and cause mayhem. Sure enough, his progeny halted to a stop by the three oldest Weasley boys which Ronald and Pansy gifted into the world. Mischief was etched upon all of their faces, and Joseph, the oldest, began to bounce on his toes with bared teeth.

When Draco reached the main floor, he spotted his mother chatting with Blaise's mother. He made his way across the room, shaking hands and making quick and simple small talk with his guests before wrapping his arm around his mother's waist and pecking her on the cheek.

"You look lovely, Mum," he complimented. His mother beamed at him and darted her eyes around.

"Where's my precious grandson? I want to show him off to all my friends in his new dress robes."

"I do believe he and his friends are plotting the incineration of your father-in-law's portrait."

"Oh, dear." Narcissa brought a dainty hand to her mouth, but Draco could see the smile behind her fingers. "I did warn Abraxas about Scorpius' destructive behavior and to keep his opinions to himself."

"If I feel like it, I may just intervene, but I might forget." Draco kissed his mother's cheek once more before turning his attention to Blaise's mother. "Mrs. Zabini, how are you? We are so pleased you could make it tonight."

The voluptuous, mocha-skinned, Italian witch licked her lips and unabashedly travelled her predatory eyes upon his person. "You look handsome, Draco."

"Thank you."

"You are so tall and practically edible," she said while licking her lips.

"You look…lovely, as well," he said hesitantly and prayed to be saved from the succubus that was Blaise's mum.

"Thank you," she cooed, puckering her shiny lips and leaning forward to smooch him wetly and audibly on the cheek. With all his might, Draco kept from shuddering.

"Mother, Mrs. Flint wants to chat with you." said Blaise from behind Draco. The blonde shot him a grateful look as the woman huffed and marched across the Reception Hall to talk with her friend.

"Thank you so much." Draco clapped his friend on the shoulder. "How've you been, mate. Haven't seen you in a while."

"Been busy with court dates. I want more days with the kids, and Daphne is being…well…Daphne. I mean, I am aware that carried Jacob and Tamara for nine months each, but it takes two to make a baby. I was the one that put them in her. They are mine, too. I bloody well deserve to have them more than just one weekend a month."

"At least she's showing interest in her children," Draco offered with a disgusted snort and snagged a glass of champagne from one of the servants. He sipped and continued. "I haven't heard from Astoria in over a month. I Owl-ed her telling about how I wanted us to seek attorneys and such, but she has yet to respond. Great Salazar, if she wants a divorce, I'll give her one. If she wants a new life away from me and her son, I'll give her that, too. I just need some communication. These separations go smoother if both parties are involved."

Blaise snagged his own drink and raised the glass towards Draco. "To us: the old wankers that can't seem to make their women content. May we never marry again and make the same mistake twice."

"Here, here." Draco raised his own glass and the two clinked together before both men gulped the fizzy fluid down.

A sigh escaped Blaise before he began chatting again. "All though it was nice to comfort each other about the Greengrass sisters, I came to tell you something of upmost importance."

"Hmm," Draco hummed and nodded. "Yes?"

"It's about…Granger."

That tightening sensation that Draco finally got rid of returned in full force. The sickening rope coiled around his heart and began to suffocate it while looping around his stomach for leverage.

"I don't care to hear about Granger," Draco tried to sound nonchalant. "I'm past that."

His friend's eyes narrowed in skepticism. "Really?"

"Yes."

"So it doesn't bother you in the slightest that she's here tonight at your party?"

Draco coughed and whipped his head around to spot that blonde hair and glasses.

"What's she doing here? I didn't invite her."

"No, but you invited her date," Blaise informed in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Her date? Who's her date?" Draco asked.

"Pucey," chuckled Blaise.

Draco scanned the crowd for Adrian and Hermione. "I don't see them."

"Knowing Adrian, he's probably found them a nice and vacant bedroom upstairs to spend the rest of their evening."

"And knowing Granger, she probably initiated the whole thing," Draco scoffed in disgust and then cursed when Blaise's eyes widened.

"What did you say?" Blaise asked, and Draco called himself an idiot.

"Nothing. Forget it," Draco attempted to brush off.

"You said Granger probably initiated the whole thing. Why would you say that?"

"Why do you care?" Draco asked.

"I didn't say I cared, I asked why would you say that. You would only say that if you knew something about her."

"I do know _something_ about her, Blaise," Draco defended. "I dated her, you know."

"Years ago," Blaise pointed out, and the Draco saw revelation dawn upon the man's face. "_You_ slept with her."

"Years ago," retorted Draco with a shrug and a smirk. "So which room am I going to have to set fire to in the morning?"

"I can't believe you. I can't believe you slept with her. I mean, I believed you might would go and bother her, but I'm amazed you had the idiocy to bed her when she doesn't even know you."

Draco's jaw ticked. "No. I'm amazed that _she_ had the idiocy to bed me when we don't even know each other. She propositioned me, Blaise. We weren't even on a date. Hell, we hadn't even talked five minutes."

"You could've turned her down like a gentleman."

"Would you have turned her down?"

Blaiser flinched but quickly smoothed his demeanor into cold indifference. If Draco did not believe his own eyes, he'd think the expression never happened. But he knew what he saw, and Draco stumbled backwards in disgust.

"_You_ slept with her," Draco coughed out.

Blaise cast his eyes about the crowded room, shame filling his dark eyes. "Yes. About a year ago. Not long after Daphne and I separated. The other time was six months ago."

"Twice?" Draco hissed and clenched his fingers into fists. He cast his eyes about to ensure he wasn't making a scene before stepping into his traitorous friend's personal space. "You slept with her twice. That means you've had contact with her for a while. You knew she didn't remember? How long have you known? Since your separation? That's two years you've known, Zabini. Or has it been longer? Hmm? Tell me!"

Calmly, Blaise raised a hand to his friend's shoulder and squeezed. "I know what I did was awful, and I cannot excuse my actions. We made a deal we would never go after each other's exes, and I broke it. I'm sorry."

Draco shrugged his friend's hand off. "I hardly care about the deal. Shag her again for all I care. She's a slag. What I care about is the timeframe? How long have you known about Granger?"

"Don't talk about her like that. You don't know her anymore," Blaise growed.

"My problem is you do and didn't bother to tell me. And you, Pansy, and everyone else can go off and spout bull shite like how this doesn't concern me, and it's none of my business. Screw all of you, including Granger. Who the blood hell cares if I don't deserve to know what happened? This _is_ about me, Blaise, despite what anyone else tries to convince me of. I am entitled to know. Stew on that for a bit. I need some air."

Draco pushed his way through the crowd towards the balcony where he let the cold winter air calm his heated face. The other guests on the balcony noticed his rigid form and angry set jaw, staying clear of their host's son.

He was unsure of how long he stayed out there, but his face was numb from the cold. He wished he could transport that sensation to his chest.

People came and went from the balcony and back to the Reception Hall. Eventually Draco was alone, staring off into the snow covered gardens. Relaxed when he was alone, he sagged his shoulders and braced his hands against the icy railing and breathed in the clean and crisp chill of winter Britain.

"Mr. Malfoy," a voice came from behind and Draco stiffened and bit his lip to keep from shouting out obscenities. With all his might, he turned to face Hermione Granger and when he had, he contemplated throwing himself off the balcony. She wore a tight black dress that cut low at the top and fell inches above her knees. The material was sequenced and sparkled from the lights of the party behind her. Three inch black high-heels adorned her feet, adding allure to her already beautiful, long legs. Her hair was pinned at the base of her skull with what looked like an exotic flower. Draco noted that she did not douse her hair in Straightening Potion. Her hair may have been up, but he saw curls. There were no glasses upon her face, but she wore more makeup than Draco had ever seen her with. Her brown eyes were lined with black, and her eye lids were a smoky blend of grey and dark green. Her full lips were simply glossed a pale pink like warm cotton candy, and he wanted to know if they tasted like such.

Draco mentally slapped himself in the face and remembered from the previous encounter that her lips did not taste like cotton candy but strawberries and heavily creamed coffee hinted with cigarette ash.

"Mr. Malfoy," Hermione repeated, tearing Draco out of his stupor. She was standing between the balcony entrance and him. She was folding her bare arms to protect herself from the chill. Draco shot her an incredulous look.

"Hermione, you need to get back inside. You'll catch your death."

She shook her head and stepped forward. "No, I have to talk to you. It's important." she said and shivered. Draco growled and stalked towards her, gripped right below her bare shoulders. Her skin was still a bit warm, and he was close enough to see that her eyes were bloodshot and teary.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco stared blankly at the eggs, bacon, and toast on his plate while Scorpius dug into his breakfast with gusto. The eldest Malfoy was aware that the food tasted good, but his appetite was gone. Thinking of Hermione and the disaster they let happen had literally sickened him. Great Gods, he stomach felt like stretched out rubber-band. One more tug in two opposite directions and...

He snorted.

What a bloody fantastic way to start the New Year.

"Draco?" his mother asked as she dabbed her lips with a napkin. "You seem to be distracted. Is everything all right? You were rather quiet last night after the party. I saw you talking to Blaise and go outside for a bit."

Draco ran a hand through his hair and shook his head from left to right, grateful that his mother had not seen Hermione at all during the party.

"Everything's fine, Mum," he lied. "I'm fine. I just drank too much last night."

Narcissa sniffed, telling Draco she did not believe him. She sipped at her morning tea and excused herself from the table. With her absence, he felt more comfortable rehashing in his mind what happened the previous night.

_"Hermione, you need to get back inside. You'll catch your death."_

_She shook her head and stepped forward. "No, I have to talk to you. It's important," she said and shivered. Draco growled and stalked towards her, gripping her arm below her bare shoulders. Her skin was still a bit warm, and he was close enough to see that her eyes were bloodshot and teary. Worry ebbed at him some but not enough to deter him away from what he wanted which was Hermione out of the Manor and out of his life._

"_It's freezing out here. Let's go inside." Draco tried to push her towards the house, but she stood firm._

"_No. This has to be private," she insisted while shrugging his hands away her shoulders. Rubbing where his hands had dwelt, Draco saw her facial muscled contort into a half-grimace, like she was somewhat repulsed by him touching her._

"_We can talk later. I'm sure your boyfriend Adrian is looking for you. It's unkind to abandon your boyfriend, Miss Granger," he told her without trying to sound bitter. Draco briefly wondered if Pucey was the beau she mention when he had been on his way out of her apartment after their brief, and somewhat embarrassing, night together. _

"_He's a big boy, and he's not my boyfriend. He can fend for himself for the rest of the night. I only accepted his request for a date tonight because what I need to tell you is important. I suppose I could have told you by Owl, but this is something that needs to be done in person."_

_A very unpleasant sensation pooled burningly at the bottom of stomach, foretelling of what the witch was about to say was surely going to make him regret not jumping off the balcony when he had the chance. He vaguely heard the crowd in the Reception Hall chanting the ten second countdown until New Years._

_"Ten!"_

_"Nine!"_

_"Eight!"_

"_Hermione…" Draco began, wariness laced in his tone._

_"Five!"_

_"Four!"_

_"Three!"_

_"Two!"_

_"One!"_

"_I'm pregnant, and it's yours," Hermione said and then took a step back before turning around and dashing back into the Reception Hall, disappearing into the crowd._

_"Happy New Year!"_

With a frustrated growl, Draco tossed his fork onto his plate causing a sharp clank to echo through the dining room. Scorpius jolted in his seat and licked the egg yolk from his lips nervously, avoiding eye contact with his irate father.

Draco would have sent his son an apologetic look if he could manage one, but he was too upset. He shoved his full plate towards the middle of the table and left to do some work, needing something to distract himself. The Malfoy office building was closed for the holiday, so he worked from his home. Or he tried. Important papers screaming at him about important things were scattered about his desk, but his focus was shot to bleedin' hell. Granger was pregnant, and he was the father supposedly. Of course, she could very well be lying about the parentage. She had a boyfriend—_who was not Pucey!_ She was also undoubtedly a slag. But…why would she lie? Blackmail? Money? She had money. From the looks of her apartment, though clean and spacious, lacked materialistic objects. She was not greedy by any means, and was not the type to trap him in a marriage. From what little he knew of this Hermione, she was not the type to settle down. And bloody hell, he saw that torturous expression on her face. She was distraught about being pregnant, and that scared Draco even more. She might terminate the pregnancy which was unsettling to him and illegal in Magical Britain. It wasn't in Muggle Britain, though.

Adoption was always a more acceptable option and less unsettling, but Draco had to keep in mind that there was the chance that Hermione might want to keep the baby. She was thirty-one years old and unmarried. She may realize that she had only a few years left to produce a healthy child with fewer fetal risks. If she chose that route, then he might have to stick his head in the kid's life every now and then and bestow some fatherly wisdom because who knew if the child would be getting any from Hermione if she didn't change her ways. He will also have to set up some sort of inheritance for the child. Essentially, Scorpius will get the lot, but even a bastard child gets a sickle.

Draco hoped for a girl. Well…_hoped_ was a strong word. He hoped this whole thing was a nightmare, and he'd wake up soon. A girl would be less messy in long run. Higher maintenance, yes, but easier to deal with legally. She would be unable to claim any right to the Malfoy inheritance. Whatever she was given, is what she would receive. End of story.

Draco dug out a clean sheet of parchment paper, dabbed his quill in some ink, and set to work. Once finished, he folded up the letter, sealed it with the Malfoy logo, and summoned Mippy to deliver it to the Owlery.

Later that evening, after running a few errands with his mum and Scorpius, Mippy delivered him his daily Owls. While sorting through them, he paused on a letter from Hermione. With haste, he tore open the envelope and read:

_Muriel's Ice Cream Parlor at 9:30 P.M._

_-H_

That blasted, tightening sensation filled Draco again, almost releasing an acidy aftershock. The letter was so impersonal and cold. He checked his clock and blast! He was ten minutes late!

Tugging on his cloak, he Apparated into an ally close to the ice cream parlor and went inside to find Hermione sitting rigid and indifferent. When her eyes met with his, her demeanor did not change. There was no ice cream in front of her, but the letter he sent that morning was. It was open and appeared to have been scrunched up a bit. Hesitantly, Draco took a seat across from her. The frosty, brown eyes of the witch cut into him mercilessly. She was not there for to satiate her sweet tooth. Draco got the vibe she was a hippogriff's hair away from reaching over the table slitting his throat.

"What is this?" she asked, her head nodding down at the parchment before her.

"A letter," Draco answered carefully.

"Why did you send it?" Her head cocked to the side and her eyes narrowed behind the dark framings of her glasses.

"We need to discuss options while we still can, Miss Granger."

Hermione leaned back in her chair and folded her arms and tilted her chin up. "There was no _we_ in your letter, Mr. Malfoy. There was _you_ and _your_ options."

"I…just need to know if you plan on keeping the child," Draco defended and jumped a little when Hermione quickly snatched up the letter in her hand and began to read aloud:

"_Dear Hermione Granger,_

_There is much to discuss about the child you are currently carrying. If you have plans to terminate the pregnancy, please inform me. If you are open to an adoption process, I can assist you. If you choose to keep the child, it will be necessary to inform me, so I can make immediate financial plans regarding you and the child. Due to the infant's status of being illegitimate, I cannot promise a large inheritance for him or her, especially since I already have my heir. However, I can provide the best schooling and childhood a bastard progeny can ask for._

_I still have much to discuss with you._

_-D.M."_

"How dare you?" Hermione scoffed and shook her head from side to side like she couldn't believe who she was sitting with was actually passing off for human

"I do not see the problem with the letter. Everything in that letter is important, and we have much to talk about," Draco said.

"No, we really don't."

"The child-"

"Is none of your concern," Hermione finished.

"Like hell! Unless the it isn't really mine. Then by all means, I will leave." Draco made a notion to leave by standing up from his chair. Hermione followed suit.

"No," she hissed and slung her purse over her shoulder. "I will leave, but before I do, I need to say that the only reason I told you about the baby was because you had a right to know. But you need not worry your precious self concerning the affairs of the child. I don't need your _financial plans_, Mr. Malfoy, and I will not on any terms tell you whether I choose to follow through with the pregnancy, give the baby up, or keep the baby. We had a night of fun...if you can call it _that_. But like you said, you already have an heir. You also have a wife, and I'm not interested in being a fulltime mistress nor a skeleton in the closet, especially when it's _you_. Now goodnight, Mr. Malfoy and have a great life."

She went to leave, but Draco shot his arm out to take a hold of her forearm to prevent her from doing so. Her vision flew to the offending hand gripping her limb tightly and then to his face. Fury creasing her brow, she tried to pull her arm away.

"Let go of me," she hissed.

"No. You are going to listen to what I have to say."

"Merlin, you have more?" She rolled her eyes and then pinned her glare back on him. "You have shit to say, and I don't care for it. Let me go. If you don't, I _will_ cause a scene. I will yell rape. I'll scream murder, and I will make sure you are toted off to the most decrepit, health-hazardous, Muggle jail cell in London. So let me g- "

Draco growled and tightened his hold on her arm, his vision tunneling and narrowing at her snarling lips. With a violent tug, he reeled her towards him and crashed his lips to hers, and she tasted of peppermint tea and strawberries. He heard muffled whines of protest and ignored the pressing of her palms on his shoulders. He pressed into her form, so she was flush against his and pried her mouth open, his tongue properly probing and tasting. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled the morsel gently. Her protests turn to small whimpers of acceptance, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and rose up on her tiptoes to deepen the kiss.

Draco's brain was turning to mush much like it had when Hermione invited him over to her place two-months prior. Her lips were amazingly soft and pliant, and she was so warm, and her scent was driving him around the twist just like it used to so many years before. Her smell was different from ten years ago, but it was equally intoxicating.

"_Ahem_," came from beside them. Draco pulled away and sort of wondered if he had a stupid 'duh' look on his face and turned to the intruder. It was a stout, Muggle man dressed in an ill-fitted, ice cream parlor uniform complete with the striped, paper hat and a badge that stated he was Manager.

"You can't do that here. This is a child friendly environment," he explained timidly, a blush tinting his plump cheeks. Draco heard little giggles that could only belong to youngsters and with a nod of understanding, he gripped Hermione's forearm once more and guided her compliant self out of the shop. The moment they were off the property and starting their way down the sidewalk, Draco peered at her with her fogged up glasses and shallow breaths. Her lips were puffy and wet causing Draco to toss all thought and reason out the window and lunge at her again and, Merlin, she was so warm. The frigid, London air was unmerciful, so he pressed against her to feel more of that heat.

"This is a bad idea. You're a bad man," Hermione murmured, pulling away for just long enough to speak before sealing their lips together once more.

"Your place?" Draco noised against her mouth.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** I know, this is taking freaking forever. I've come into a rather busy time and am trying to write and post as often as I can. With family responsibilities and professors breathing down my neck, my schedule is a little tight. I feel really bad but don't lose faith in me. This will be finished and then I can get posting on the companion fic to this. Anway, thank you to my readers, reviewers, and followers. Hope you like the chapter. Read and review, please, and tell me what you think.

* * *

Draco stirred awake from feeling a tickling sensation above his left wrist. Breathing in deeply, he blinked his eyes awake and saw Hermione lying next to him on her side, the bed sheets covering all of her womanly places. She was much closer to him than the last time they were together in her bedroom. He also took notice that her hair-straightening potion must've worn off in the night because her hair was wild and curly and exquisitely mesmerizing. Absentmindedly, he reached with his right hand and tugged at one of her blondish curls. Her eyes narrowed and curiosity filled them while she cocked her head to the side.

"Draco Malfoy, how could I ever forget?"

His toying hands froze and sunk his own grey orbs into her brown ones. _Merlin, does she remember? Did our scorching shag knock something loose up in that curly head of hers?_

Excitedly, Draco sat up and caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. "Granger," he whispered and to his bewilderment, she giggled.

"Granger?" she snickered and bit her bottom lip. "No one's called me that since Hogwarts. Well…I have a kind of friend that does sometimes, but you get what I mean."

Draco's heart sunk into his stomach and then mentally slapped himself for being so hopeful. Of course, she didn't remember. Trying not to sound thoroughly irritated, he asked, "How could you forget what?"

Hermione's giggling subsided into something else, something morbid and serious, and Draco realized she had never stopped caressing the skin above his wrist until she paused at his question and then started again. His gaze landed on her fingers and sucked in the breath because she was not caressing but _tracing_.

"I don't remember you from school at all," she said, her eyes where her fingers were. "Perhaps your name. I think you may have been friends with Blaise Zabini, the Head Boy of our repeated year, right? He was at your party. He's the one who used to call me Granger in school. We're kind of friends."

Draco slowly nodded, unsure where Hermione was taking this.

"I travelled with Harry Potter before the Battle of Hogwarts along with Ronald Weasley. We were in hiding. There had been an unfortunate time when we were captured and taken to a very large house. There, I was tortured by a woman named Bellatrix Lestrange while other followers of…Tom Riddle watched. I didn't know who the actual owner of the house was, and I never bothered to ask when I had the chance months later. Too many horrid memories, and I wanted to put it all behind me.

"When I found out that I was pregnant, I had no idea how to contact you. I didn't know where you lived. I only knew your name. When I went to the Directory, I discovered only those invited can pass your wards. I wanted to write you, but I knew I needed to speak with you in person, and I was also afraid that someone, namely your wife, would see the letter. I had hoped that you would come in the shop again, but you didn't. When Adrian asked me to accompany him to your party, I accepted. When we arrived, I couldn't find you right away, and Adrian was trying to find a private area for us to _talk_. He dragged me into a room, and …" Hermione's voice trailed on, and her brown eyes became dewy with unshed tears. "It was _that_ room."

"The Drawing Room," whispered Draco and guilt overwhelmed him, and he hated it. Dammit, he had already done this before. He had already suffered from his sins of the war when it came to Hermione Granger. After the capture and escape of Harry Potter and his friends, he had nightmares for a year about Hermione writhing in excruciation in front of him. They subsided when she forgave him personally on their third date. He remembered her rising up on her tiptoes and kissing him gently and lingeringly on his cheek, whispering her forgiveness towards him for everything and believed he was truly a changed man, but their courting could not continue because it was upsetting her friends and even her parents. Draco had tried to withhold his anger by explaining to her the reasons why they should continue their relationship. That was when she blatantly told him they had yet to finalize such a status, and he needed to calm down. Funny, he had thought he was rather placid, but her telling him what to do certainly geared the conversation into a different direction. He loudly informed her that she was not his mother. She responded by throwing her hands up in the air in a praise-like fashion exclaiming a 'thank Godric for that!'

Their bickering heated up vastly and lasted for a good ten minutes until she repeated their friendly togetherness was causing some hot air between her and her lads. He snorted and said that was bloody hypocritical since Pansy was up the duff with Weasel's bastard child. Apparently, she hadn't known because her eyes popped out of her head, and her head tilted back while an obnoxious guffaw escaped her lips. She called him a crazy git and that Ron would never touch the Pug-Faced Dimbo. He challenged her words by saying, 'like I would never touch the Muggle-Born Golden Girl?'

Hermione's laughter had diminished after that, her chest heaving up and down from violent giggling. Her smile disappeared, and her eyes seemed be calculating, and then he witnessed the click in them. She had added the numbers and came up with an often disappearing Ron plus a mood-swinging but kind of friendlier Pansy, equals baby.

Draco had taken full advantage of Hermione's stupor. He threw himself at her, connecting his lips with hers, so she knew what he felt for her was miniscule compared to her friends' and folks' opinions.

"Yeah," he heard Hermione say, tearing Draco away from that memory. "I wanted to leave. I didn't want to talk to you. I didn't want to tell you about the pregnancy. You most likely served on Voldemort's side during the war. I admit; I paid little attention to your body when we were together eight weeks ago, so I didn't see _this_. But I guess you didn't see mine, either." Hermione slid her forearm next his, and Draco swallowed thickly at her unblemished skin. Her pointer finger slid from the middle of her radial artery and downward, the letters M-U-D-B-L-O-O-D shadowing behind the digit. He closed his eyes and held back a wave of nausea. He had forgotten about her scars. "But you probably knew it was already there. You mostly likely saw it happen from the shadows or something."

"Hermione-" Draco tried to speak, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand and an eye roll.

"I was angry with you, of course, which was why I didn't want to tell you about my condition. I was on my way to the Floo, and I was about to step in when I changed my mind. I didn't want this to come back and bite me in arse years later, so I found you, told you, and left. When I received your Owl, you can understand the reason as to why I was so upset. I was hoping to never hear from you again. You're not like other men, Mr. Malfoy. Most of them would hop on their broom and fly off as far as they could get or simply ignore the fact they got a woman pregnant, especially if they are already married. You want to help. Sort of. You sounded quite controlling in your letter. I hate being controlled." Draco nodded. Yes, he knew. That was something that would never change about Hermione Granger regardless of hair color and eyeglasses. "I hated especially that an ex-Death Eater was trying to control me and that I let myself get pregnant by one. Well…I didn't let myself. Those blasted Contraceptive Potions are only 99.9 percent guaranteed. I am a faithful consumer; I promise."

"You don't appear that upset anymore. For a Muggle-Born witch who has an ex-Death Eater in her bedroom and got pregnant by him, you are acting rather calm," Draco carefully pointed out.

An amused sparkle lit up Hermione's eyes, and an unreadable smirk stretched half of her face. "Merlin, you're right!" she gasped and shoved her hand underneath her pillow, pulling out her wand and pointing it at him. "You retched, foul rodent! I shall perform a Hacking Hex on your bits for impregnating me, attempting to control me, and attempt to rape me in an ice cream shop where the young and the innocent go to mingle!"

Draco being an ex-Death Eater was no laughing matter, nor was Hermione being pregnant. However, he could not help but let a chuckle slip out. Without thinking, he leaned towards her and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. It was the kind of kiss that should only be shared between those in love, and he was most certainly not. Inarguably, he was still attracted to Granger, but he did not love her. All of her loveable qualities were gone and replaced by a startling personality and promiscuous proclivities.

And blonde hair.

The glasses were actually kind of growing on him.

Draco pulled away and sensed uneasiness coming from Hermione. She was put off by the kiss, as well.

"Um…" she said after an awkward beat while wiping her mouth. "We need to talk about things, I guess."

Seizing the opportunity to lighten the mood again, he said, "I thought you didn't want to talk."

Her eyes squeezed shut, and a mix between and a cringe and a smile formed on her lips. "I think we have to."

Nodding, he plunged his hand into his mussed hair before asking as carefully as he could, "Are you…Do you…Um…?"

"I'm thirty-one, you know," she whispered and turned her head towards her curtained windows. It was a rather large window and took up an entire wall-space. She stared at it like it was the most interesting thing in the room. "I'm unmarried, but that's on purpose. Truthfully," she faced him once more, "I can't remember a time that I ever wanted to marry. Not even my boyfriend…who's not my boyfriend anymore, by the way."

A million memories flashed in the back of Draco's mind that contradicted her words of matrimonial binding but ignored them and continued listening to Hermione.

"But a mother?" she hinted and shrugged. "Who knows? But I have to take in consideration that my time is shortening biologically wise. I have the rest of my life to change my mind about marriage but only a few years about children." Grumbled something unintelligible and looking rather annoyed, she flopped herself back on the bed and growled before muttering out, "I might as well keep the thing."

Oh, dear, if any of the family portraits caught wind of this…

_Are you barking mad, Draco! _he yelled at himself. _If Mum finds out…_

"Draco, are you okay? You seem a little green," Hermione told him.

"So do you," he commented back dryly and jolted in surprise when Hermione bolted from the bed stark naked and ran into the bathroom. From the bed he heard retching and wondered what he should do and if he should do anything. Unsurely, he vacated the bed and slipped on his boxers while checking the time. It was 5:30 in the morning. He padded quietly over to the open door of the bathroom and snuck a peak. Hermione's naked back was hunched over, her face shoved into the toilet accompanied with liquid-y chucks spraying from her mouth.

Draco cringed and tried to remember if Astoria was sick when carrying Scorpius.

"It's rude to stare," Hermione heaved out between spews.

"I just wanted…" he wracked his brain for something, "to see if you were okay. If you needed anything."

She said nothing but persisted to regurgitate for quite some time, to the point where Draco began to worry. He eyed the glimmering sheen of sweat developing down along her spine and the strands of curly hair sticking to her forehead. His concern lessed and took advantage of her nude state and studied her body and the changes the last ten years gave her. Her body was still petite but appeared to have managed clinging on to some meat in her womanly places. Her bosoms were nice, but that could be due to her circumstances. Her skin was smooth, flawless with random sprinkles of freckles here and there, and her arse was still the best he had ever seen, fully clothed or not.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the witch's vomiting seized. Hermione sighed heavily and tried to stand up on shaky legs. Taking his chances, Draco stepped forward and scooped her up like a bride, and she gave him a tired glare.

"I was fine," she claimed but made no move to wriggle out of his hold. Instead, she lifted her hand and brushed her fingertip across his right shoulder. "What happened here?"

Without looking as to where she was pointing, Draco deposited her on the bed and emotionlessly stated, "_Sectumsempra Curse_."

Hermione's eyes widened in alarm and then focused back on the scar before they wandered all over the exposed skin of his torso in search for more marks. "That's a nasty curse, and I'm surprised you survived. It's meant to kill," she whispered and leaned back against her pillow and jutted out her ribcage. Draco was momentarily distracted by the motion, for her breasts were quite distracting but eyed her finger when she skimmed over the skin below them. A long, thirteen millimeter wide, dark pink scar appeared. "But so was this."

In the ten years since the last time Draco saw her naked, Hermione's scar she got in Fifth year at the Department of Mysteries had not changed in the slightest, and Draco frowned severely at that revelation. She must have mistaken his reaction for something else because she scrambled for her duvet, quickly covering herself with a shameful blush covering her cheeks.

"I shouldn't have shown you that." Hermione stared off into some far corner of her bedroom. "I hardly ever show it to anyone, and now I remember why."

"Hermione-" he began quietly and sat beside her.

"It's hideous." Scowling, she brought her knees up towards her face and wrapped her arms around them. "Admit it."

Even knowing how she got it, Draco asked anyway to show some supporting interest in her wellbeing. "Where did you get it? What happened?"

Hermione, still eyeing that fascinating corner, hesitantly met his gaze but vastly lowered it to her knees and vaguely said, "I've been cursed before, too, as you know, and it left a mark."

"It's not as abhorrent as you think," Draco attempted to comfort and she rolled her eyes and smiled sadly.

"You're right. It's worse. Aren't you disgusted?"

"No. You're not put off by my scars. Not even my Dark Mark."

"It's different with girls," Hermione solemnly mumbled. "We're supposed to be pristine and flawless."

Her words threw him. The old Hermione would have never said that, and she had never hid her scars from him, and he had never been repulsed by them. They were a part of her, and Draco loved them because of such. During their lovemaking, he had often traced the scars with his tongue and nipped at them with his teeth.

"Famous sculptors would often make the most beautiful statues and then purposefully mar them because they thought imperfection was more aspiring, and it is," he said to her

The corners of Hermione's lips turned upwards just slightly. He brought his hand to her forehead and brushed away the curly strands of blond.

"We'll talk more later," Draco promised as she shifted into the fetal position and tucked the duvet snuggly under her chin. He reached for his trousers and shirt and slipped them on, leaving her to rest.

He Apparated straight to his bedroom only to shed the clothes he just donned. It was nearly six, and he needed to be at work at eight o' clock sharp for a meeting. It would be fruitless to go back to bed. Instead, he showered. The heat was on high, and the water soothed his aching muscles from the activities of the night before, deciding that Hermione could probably kill a man if she were not careful. He chortled at the thought 'what a way to go' and messaged some shampoo into his scalp.

The large glass door of the shower flew open, and Draco slipped backwards with a frightened yelp, landing painfully on his naked bum. He blinked away the stinging in his eyes from the shampoo and stared up at his mother in aghast.

"Mum, What's wrong?"

"Where were you last night, Draco?" she asked in a light tone a voice, but he knew better. He placed his hands on his private bits and maneuvered himself up back into a standing position and stuck his head underneath the pouring water to rinse his locks. Once finished, he faced her again.

"Out," he replied.

"Astoria stopped by," Narcissa informed coldly, "and was looking for you."

"Was she really? Did she see Scorpius?"

"For a minute, but it was you she wanted to talk to, and it was past his bedtime. She was rather upset you were not here and wondered where you were at such a late hour. Where were you, Draco, and don't lie to Mummy. We both know that's not a good idea."

"I said I was out. I don't want to be specific, Mum, but in all honesty, Astoria has been lacking in the companionship department."

His mother drew in an audible scandalized breath and lifted her chin."Fine. But if you choose to seek out other women, Draco, at least get started on a divorce. It's uncomely for you to still be married while running about like a bachelor. If someone from the media caught on…"

"Once Astoria and I get a chance to speak, our lawyers will be contacted and the papers will be on their way. I will Owl her and hopefully she responds this time."


	8. Chapter 8

Draco's mother left him alone, and he finished his shower, rehashing the events between him and Granger, storing key information she had given him during their time together. There were some things she remembered and some things she didn't. She recalled being captured during the War and taken to the Manor but hadn't a clue who owned the property up until recently, therefore, could not remember his parents. Yet, she was aware of the Malfoy name.

The scars, her physical imperfections, made her feel ashamed and that bothered him the more than her promiscuous lifestyle. Her scars were nothing to be ashamed of, for they were earned by battle and bravery. Though she had hidden her Mudblood scar ten years ago, it was not out of shame, but to simply keep people from staring. A simple scrap of sleeve was perfectly suitable for covering her forearm, she had once told him.

The one scar Dolohov gave her in the Department of Mysteries had only been seen by her parents, Draco, and Weasley when she dated him. Potter hadn't even seen it, nor had his wife. During that time, the skin was uncharmed and unnecessary to cover it because the blemish was already hidden by clothing.

Draco understood why she felt the need to hide her imperfections due to her active participation in promiscuity. Some blokes did not appreciate flaws on women. What he didn't understand was why she hid them from herself. She mentioned that she hardly let her scars be seen by anyone. This 'anyone' was probably a bastard and made her feel physically inadequate, blowing a gaping hole in her buoyancy.

There were so many unanswered questions and at the moment, all Draco could do was fill them with his own scenarios.

* * *

Draco was eating his lunch provided by Pansy while skimming over the papers Astoria's solicitor sent him. Wincing, he set his sandwich down and placed a balled fist on his chest, rubbing at the acidy feeling inside. He then did the same to his stomach, acidy coils twisting and churning inside of the cavity. Setting his food down, he opened up his left hand drawer and fished out a bottle of potion he sometimes would have to sip at if eating spicey food or too much food in general. The sensation certainly did not feel like heartburn, but the medical fluid couldn't hurt.

Halfway through his meal was when his distraught looking receptionist came stumbling through the door apologizing profusely. "Mr. Malfoy, I apologize, but she's determined to see y-"

He watched with puffed out cheeks as Ginny Potter entered his office, purposefully bumping into Sandra and smiling at her triumphantly. "I told you I'd get to see him," she smugly told her and then shot a withering glare at him, hissing at his secretary, "Leave!"

Sandra yelped and scurried away, closing the door behind her. Ginny then stalked forward and pointed her finger at his nose and yelled, "I'm going to kill you! It's going to be slow! It's going be bloody, and it's going to be damned satisfying! I am going to watch with delicious glee as that disgusting, arrogant flicker goes out in your pretty, pretty eyes, Malfoy!"

Still full mouthed, Draco peered upon the frightening witch with the developing child inside of her. Surely, the girl knew it was unwise to cast Unforgiveables while pregnant. The dark energy messed with the baby's brain wavelengths, increasing the chance of the baking infant to be born cuckoo.

Draco exhaled loudly and dared to chew up the rest of his food with Ginny's finger still pressed to his nose. He figured if she was going to kill him, she would have done it already.

"Mrs. Potter, I find your loud screeching quite troubling, and the fact that you want to take away my life irks me greatly. Tell me how I can calm your obviously strained nerves and revert you back to the capable human being I know you to be."

Tremors ran over her body in her high fit of anger and Draco fancied the thought of casting a Calming Charm upon her.

"She's having a baby, Malfoy," she whispered before repeating the main point in a bellow, "A baby!"

Draco groaned and foresaw terrible things coming in the next seven months. He set his sandwich down and shot Ginny a pitiful look of shame, hoping that her womanly nature would blast away her anger and forgive him. It worked on his mum.

"She told you?" he complained pitifully.

"I told you to stay away from her!" Ginny howled.

"I did, but two days ago she sought me out and told me of her condition. What was I supposed to do?" he defended with his hands up and fingers splayed in surrender.

Ginny glared at him. "You should have left her alone to begin with. You definitely should have left her alone once she told you about the baby."

"That's irresponsible. What kind of man would I be to ignore a woman that is up the duff with my child?" he scoffed hotly.

"A normal one!" screeched Ginny and then exhaled loudly before plopping herself in the chair across from him looking haggard and a bit flushed, her hand rubbing her belly.

"Is everything okay?" Draco asked.

"It's kicking is all," Ginny muttered tiredly and glared at him once more. "And you need to leave Hermione alone."

"I can't do that now. You know I can't. Not now," he said, shaking his head from left to right.

"Yes you can, and you know what? I bet Hermione wouldn't even care. She's ready to do this on her own, and she can. She's got money, and she's smart. She's not much of a kid person, but she likes them well enough, so I think everything will be fine. You don't need to assist her with anything. In fact, it's probably best if you don't. If word got out that you soiled your precious lineage by impregnating a Muggle-Born, I can only imagine what kind of woes you would face at home, especially since you are still married."

"You let me worry about that," said Draco.

"She told me that you spent the night again last night. That you were, and I quote—kind of sweet for a former Death Eater. This is terrible, Malfoy! It's happening all over again!"

"What is?"

"This! The relationship which should have never begun. Not now and not twelve years ago. You two were so stupid over each other. Neither of you could see the disaster ahead of you, and it's happening again! Draco…" Ginny sighed, surprising him by the usage of his first name and how softly she asked "Don't you remember? Think back. Do you really want to go down that road again?"

On the outside, Draco appeared indifferent by Ginny's words. On the inside, he was pressing his back against a closet door he had locked a long time ago.

"Hermione and I are not in a relationship," Draco stated coolly and collectedly. "I simply got her pregnant."

"Are you really this daft, or are you acting this way to make me laugh?"

"It's the truth," Draco argued.

"Perhaps now!" Ginny exclaimed, tossing her arms in the air. "But don't think I don't know where you were last night! I know you were with her. Tell me, if you are not pursuing a relationship with her, then why did you sleep with her again?"

"Sex is not about liking the person, Mrs. Potter." A salacious smirk formed that was quickly extinguished by a slap of Ginny's outreached hand. Draco jolted from the force and goggled at her in shock while rubbing his stinging cheek.

"You must think I'm stupid! It's not just sex. End this now before something bad happens. Do you think just because she can't remember you, you can start all over again?"

Draco paused pensively before replying honestly "No, I don't. I don't want to start all over again with her, and I know it would be foolish to start a relationship with her, so-"

"Then why did you sleep with her again?"

"Let me finish!" Draco snarled. "So I'm not going to, and I think I know why she doesn't remember me. Somehow she got slipped a potion called _Memoria Obscurare._ That's why she doesn't remember anything about me. I've done some research and there is a counteragent for it. I think I can brew it. Of course, I'll have to wait until Hermione has given birth before I offer it, but after, she'll remember me."

Ginny's face masked a million thoughts, her lips twitching bemusedly, eyes narrowing, and forehead wrinkling. A full minute had passed before she leaned forward and propped her elbow on his desk and rested her chin on her palm. "And then what, Draco?" she asked.

"Well…" Draco paused, unsure of how to answer her question or what she meant by it. "She'll remember."

"Why does she need to?" she whispered, her words similar to Severus'.

"Why _doesn't_ she need to?" Draco challenged, an anticipating bubble springing within him. He was close to some answers; he could practically taste it. He watched as Ginny's right eye twitched as she sat back in her chair and folded her arms on top of her protruding stomach.

"Draco Malfoy, did it ever occur to you that the reason why Hermione cannot recall a single memory of you was simply on purpose?"

"Yes," Draco answered. "Hermione not knowing me at all seems too precise to be random. It makes me wonder who gave _Memoria Obscurare_ to her. Bloody knew what they were doing, yeah? Do you think it was your husband?"

The freckles darkened against Ginny's pale skin and when she replied, she ignored his inquiry about Harry. "Did it ever occur to you, Malfoy, that nobody _slipped_ her the potion? That maybe perhaps Hermione drank it _willingly_?"

All thoughts dissolved in Draco's mind, but the word 'willingly' echoed against the inner walls of his skull.

"I-I don't understand," stuttered Draco, and Ginny surprised him with pity in her eyes.

"Draco…" Ginny lingered his name.

"What do you mean _willingly_? Are you saying that she…" Draco couldn't finish. He felt sick. His office was spinning, and his tie was strangling him.

"She was so angry," Ginny said, like the four words would explain everything. The worst part was that they sort of did.

"Angry," Draco quietly spat and rubbed his fingertips on his eyelids.

"I told her that it wasn't worth it. That it was dangerous. A potion like that is considered Dark Magic and could come with consequences, but she refused to listen to me, to Harry, to logic. I had never seen her that way and neither had Harry or Ron. When she told us she was going through with it, we begged her to stop. She argued with us to exhaustion, screaming things like how we didn't understand, and if we were really her friends, we would show support. She eventually persuaded Ron to see things her way, and he was all she needed to go through with it. He found someone to brew the potion for her. He never told me or Harry who but when the potion was done, Ron delivered it to her with specific instructions."

Ginny paused and sniffled. Draco watched numbly as tears slipped down the woman's face.

"In order to remove you from her memory, she literally had to remove you. She had to get rid of everything that had anything to do with you: Presents, cards, flowers, clothes, pictures, and even some of her books. From what Ron said, she gathered them into a box, shrunk it, and asked him to get rid of it. The next day, she applied to Magical Yale in the States where she planned to continue her studies in business. The night before she left for school, she drank the potion.

"The next day when I saw her, before she was due to her Portkey, she was…" Ginny turned her head towards the window, staring off into the distance, "different. Happy but completely different. Her personality had changed. I figured out why later after pondering it for a while. You weren't just her ex-boyfriend; you were her bully, Malfoy. In school, you would call her horrible names. You verbally beat her down any chance you got by calling her horrible, horrible names. So often you would call her these things that I think she believed them. When she removed you from her memory, she woke up wondering why she was the way she was. When she was attending school at Yale, she stripped herself of those names completely, trying to prove herself that she was better than that and more exciting. That she was smart but could have a good time. The way she went about it, I think crushed her self-confidence even further.

"I had never heard of a witch go through as many wizards as she did. A lot of the boys were pricks to her, but it wasn't like she kept one around forever. On to the next one. Sometimes on to the next two if she couldn't decide. Until now, with her pregnancy in mind, it was a lifestyle she had not been able to shake off."

Ginny Potter might as well have shot an _Avada_ at him because Draco felt like he was dead. He couldn't think, he couldn't feel his heart beating, and he was motionless. Even being _Stunned_ or _Stupefied_ didn't feel this way. Minutes had to pass before he was capable of making sound which started with a bitter snort.

"She must've really hated me." He kind of smiled wryly, and Ginny opened her mouth to reply. He shook his head to stop her. "Don't deny it. She did."

"She loved you, Draco. It hurt too much when you left, she couldn't-"

"Move on," finished Draco. "I don't believe that. Cry for me, she would have, maybe for a year at the most, but she would have moved on eventually. She would have loved another in time. Hermione was not a foolish, lovesick sap, Ginny. She didn't drink that potion, so she could make the hurt go away. She drank it because she hated me. When she drank that potion, she was over me, I assure you. If she had truly still loved me, she would have suffered the heartbreak naturally and not tossed all of her memories of us into the rubbish bin. A lot of those memories were damned well amazing, and she _didn't_ care. She hated me so much that she purged away those images because she found them tainted. It didn't matter that she was happy when I first told her that I loved her, bought her a new book, or whisked her away to Italy for a Roman holiday. The fact that I was in those memories deemed them unfit and had to go."

He watched as Ginny's chin wobbled, and her cheeks became wet with the tears but made no move to wipe them away. "Yes." She nodded meakly. "She hated you, but do you blame her? You worked so hard to just get her to even go out on a date with you. You blistered through Hades to just for her to agree to be your girlfriend. You had to jump through so many hoops and come up against any obstacle Hermione placed in front of you, and you burrowed through them without complaint. You made it out alive when you met her father. You spoiled her and worshipped her for two years before giving her a ring, only to take it back a month before the wedding."

Draco's throat constricted at the all things that Ginny was digging up which had been locked away and discarded because that had been the easiest way to do what he had to do as the only son and heir of the Malfoy line. The pain of shoving away Hermione had been the most painful thing he had ever experienced. A _Crucio_ would have hurt less.

His engagement to her had been a very private ordeal. The first people to know were her parents. The second group of people consisted of Ginny and Blaise. For months, that was all who knew. Not even Potter or Weasley were privy to the information until later. He and Hermione wanted their privacy withheld from the hungry mouths of the media, and they succeeded. Even now, the Wizardry media had no idea that Hermione Granger, War Heroine, had ever been involved with Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater.

They were going to elope. The date to run away for a weekend had been set and…

Lightly coughing, he composed himself and lit fire to his musings and transformed his exterior into an indifferent state of business formality and said, "My father had found out about the engagement and gave me an ultimatum, Potter, as did my mother. I would have been disowned for following through with the marriage. My inheritance would have been cut off. I would have had nothing to offer Hermione or our children if we chose to have any."

"Hermione never cared about your money, Malfoy. But that wasn't the problem, was it? _You_ cared about the money."

"Because I needed to provide-"

"That's shit, and you know it! Hermione did not and never will need someone to provide for her! You ran out because you were a coward!"

"My father was ill, and I had obligations a lot bigger than Hermione."

"Were they worth it? Those obligations?" Ginny's asked hoarsely.

Draco actually thought about Ginny's question before answering carefully, like he was walking on a cracked, stained glass window. "Yes," he answered softly, and the witch's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "I have Scorpius."

Draco would have thought mentioning his son would have softened the unforgiving, homicidal glare of Ginny. Regardless, the witch remained cold and unforgiving.

"You would have had a Scorpius, I assure you, if you would have stayed with Hermione. You may have had no access to the family galleons at Gringotts, but you would have had your son, maybe even more. You would also have had a wife that would be faithful and loved you _and_ your children. Your children would not be smothered by another woman's affection on their birthdays, and you would not have had to seek another female's company to satiate your thirst for intimacy."

Ginny stood up from her seat and jutted out her chin. "You need to keep your distance from Hermione and _her _baby. You've made your decision a long time ago. You can't just change your mind because it's convenient."

"Is that all?" Draco stated, striving to keep himself composed. Ginny Potter had verbally handed him his arse and made him take a whiff of his own hole. But he had pride, and he was a Malfoy; he would not yield to the witch's temper and spry tongue.

The slam of the door was loud and unforgiving, making several photos on his wall crash into the floor.

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A/N: Thought it would be good time to point out that I got this idea from the movie _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind_. Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have put this fic on their favorite list. Hope the chapter answered some questions. Feel free to review and comment about. Everyone have a great weekend!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I apologize for the belated update on this. Please forgive me.

A big thanks to me readers, reviewers, followers and such. I hope this chapter is enjoyable and will quickly get started on the next chapter. I very much want to tie up this story, so I can get crackin' on the prequal.

I'm sorry for the shortness of the chapter, but it's still good, I think. Read and review, please and tell me your thoughts and feelings. :)

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"It was you, wasn't it?"

Severus halted his work of grading assignments and peered despondently at Draco, the young man storming into his home office, red-faced and enraged, with a bit of Floo powder specks on the shoulder of his shirt. The elder wizard raised his eyebrows at the intrusion and carefully set his grading quill aside and intertwined his fingers, preparing himself for whatever was coming.

"What are you going on about?" Severus inquired in an enervated tone.

"Hermione," Draco spat out and leaned over his Godfather's desk and pointed an accusing finger at him. "_You_ were the one that brewed that potion for her. _Memoria Obscurare._" He shook his head and bitterly said, "I should've known. How could I have been so blind? Right in front of me all this time. This is exactly like something you would do! It has your traitorous stench all over it!"

A cross between exasperation and bemused intrigue flared up in Severus' eyes as he attempted to speak. "Draco-"

"Why?" susurrated Draco. "I know you didn't like her, but I have a right to know why!"

"Draco-"

"-no reason you should have-"

"Draco-"

"I can't believe you did this!"

"Draco-"

"I demand that you brew the counteragent immediately!" Draco exclaimed, slamming his hand on the desk and then bursting into a fit of coughs. A small bottle of ink toppled over from the reverberations and leaked over some of the parchment spread across the mahogany. Severus sucked in an irritated breath and tossed a withering glare at him, waving his wand to clear up the mess.

"Sit," Severus commanded, and Draco weakly composed his hacking and feebly sneered at him.

"No," the he said. "Do you have any idea-"

"I know _you_ don't. Sit!" the older wizard icily demanded. A chair came up behind Draco and knocked the back of his knees, making him fall onto the cushion. He tried to get up but couldn't budge, feeling as though his trousers were stuck to the stuffed seating of the chair. He cursed and wiggled in the seat before giving up and glowering at Severus.

"Release me!" Draco barked, his Godfather exhaling in annoyance.

"It's seems," he paused to set down his wand and interlock his fingers, "that you have reverted back to your glorious, petulant days. I do not and never did have the patience for your childish temper, Draco. Now calm down and begin again. Tell me what is upsetting you."

Draco wanted nothing more than to reach for his wand and cast a hex on Severus for the man's betrayal but refrained and explained, "_You_ were the one that made the potion for Hermione. _You_ made her forget me."

Severus gave no indication that the younger wizard's accusations were true or false but simply crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "And what, pray tell, makes you think it was me?" he asked, his voice elevating in interest from Draco's allegation.

"It takes a skilled hand to brew _Memoria Obscurare_, and there are few willing to produce a vial for Hermione. Let's not forget your well-stocked supply of illicit ingredients you have in the lab closet downstairs."

"Anything else?"

"It's only obvious it was you who did. You had nearly cast Unforgiveables on both of us upon discovering my relationship with Hermione. You loathed that we were together. Just because you didn't get your Muggle-Born…"

It was a low blow and beneath Draco, but if Severus was perturbed by his words, he made no indication of such. He replied in an eerily cold, vacant voice, "No, I didn't. But if I had, I would have not let her go. Not for anything."

Slitting his eyes, Draco glowered at his Godfather and said nothing.

"I did not brew the potion, Draco," claimed Severus. "Until you came to me a few days ago, I truly had no idea Miss Granger could not place you in her memory. Though I understand why you thought it was me who assisted her, I will regretfully inform it was not. I would have never brewed _Memoria Obscurare_ for her or _anyone_." The man said 'anyone' sharply and then continued, "There are reasons as to why it is illegal, and it's not because of the possible dire consequences if brewed incorrectly. It's the _deathly_ consequences one should worry about if brewed superbly. I hope you took to heart what I said to you last time. I hope you stayed away from the girl."

Hesitantly, Draco replied, "And if I didn't?"

Concern and then anger washed over his Godfather. "I think...I should have told you sooner, but I wasn't positive of the reasoning as to why Miss Granger could not remember you. I had considered the woman was acting petty and dishonest but dared to hope you would listen to me for once in your pitiful life. Have you been feeling any pain? Sporadic discomfort in your abdominal and chest regions at all since seeing Miss Granger again?" He stopped, his eyes narrowing pensively. "Coughing?"

"Yes, but it's just-"

"Then it may be too late," he said, more to himself than to Draco.

"What are you talking about?" asked Draco, dread building up inside of him. The annoying pangs inside himself were nothing, just pestering, emotional stress due to Hermione's changes. Right?

"Have you studied the potion at all since I told you about it?" Severus asked. "This history, I mean?"

"No, just the ingredients and the counter potion's ingredients," Draco said with a creased brow and a dry throat. "Please tell me what's going on."

"The potion _Memoria Obscurare_ was first brewed over four hundred years ago in Spain by a wizard who discovered his wife unfaithful. Heartbroken, he wanted to forget her but knew a simple _Obliviate _or extracting memories would not suffice. He set out to discover the perfect potion in which a single person could be forgotten and eventually discovered there wasn't one. If he desperately wanted to forget his wife's existence, he had to make one.

"The ingredients he had needed were controversial, and he had put no thought as to why they were so. Once brewed, he drank it and forgot everything about his wife. However, when the potion was consumed, it latched on to that negative feeling of betrayal. You see, Draco, the potion merely covers the memories. It does not rid them of the mind nor does it erase the emotions. The concoction locks them both away unnoticeably inside the brain by the consumer. The Dark Magic created from mixed elements links itself to those buried feelings and the person who has forgotten unknowingly creates a failsafe. This ensures that person who has been forgotten can never properly enter the drinker's life again and repeat the same damage." Severus paused and gave Draco a look, hoping the young man understood where this was going. "Since the wizard and the witch lived in a small village, they always were near each other. Being around him caused her an incurable illness, an illness unresponsive to treatment, and she died. You understand now as to why I would never brew that potion, Draco. I ask again, do you ever feel any pain or discomfort?"

Numbly, Draco gently nodded and Severus curled his upper lip in distaste. It was his way of showing how perturbed he actually was.

"I'm going to die if I don't see a Healer, right?" whispered Draco.

"It's a curse," Severus reminded.

"Then I need a Curse Breaker." Draco nodded again in understanding and made a move to get up because he needed to go and do just that, but was unable to leave his seat. "Severus, I need to go find one. Release me."

"A Curse Breaker may not be able to help you with this. This is a potion based curse, yet you were not the one to even drink it. We will consult one if necessary, but we must keep this away from the public. Remember the potion is illegal, Miss Granger willingly drank it, and most Curse Breakers have to report to the law. Unless you feel like she needs to be arrested for something she has no recollection of, then I suggest you do what you can on your own. I will assist you the best I can, though. Tell me, how much time have you spent with Miss Granger?"

Guiltily, Draco cast his gaze elsewhere and closed his eyes tightly, not bearing to see the disappointment in his Godfather's eyes.

"Some," softly replied Draco.

"Define 'some'. How long were you in her presence?"

"Hours," Draco replied vaguely, thinking of the entire night he spent with her two days ago.

"According to my last _Legilimancy_ I performed on you. There was an eight week reprieve you had from her, did you feel any of kind of pain related to ulcers during that time?"

"Ulcers?" Draco blanched. "Yes, I suppose, but it started to go away towards the end. The pain had become less and less, especially if I didn't think about her. When we saw each other again, it came back."

"It _is_ too late," Severus mumbled and Draco's breath hitched at the news. "Now the question is, how long do you have? Maybe we can-"

"Severus…" Draco pleaded and then let out a dry and disheartened chuckle and muttered to himself. "Hermione killed me. Bloody should've known that's how I'd go."

The older wizard shook his head from side to side. "If the girl knew she would be risking your life when drinking that potion, she would have never done it. It does make one wonder, though, about the one who did brew _Memoria Obscurare._ It causes me to wonder if he or she knew of the effects or if they were equally ignorant."

"Would the counteragent work? Could it possibly reverse the effects?" Draco inquired hopefully, and Severus stroked his chin pensively.

"Perhaps yes, perhaps no. It may cause even more problems, but the risk might be worth it. I'll consult to my library and do some research. I suggest you do the same. I also suggest you find the one who brewed the potion for Hermione in the first place. Do you have any idea who it could be?"

"No." Draco shook his head. "I really thought it was you. Who else could it have been? All I know is that Ron Weasley had found someone to do it."

"Ron Weasley." Severus' touched his fingertips together, forming a pyramid and confidently said, "It most certainly was not him who did it. Potter would be unlikely, as well, I assume."

"It wasn't him." Draco shook his head, remembering what Ginny told him earlier, how upset she and her husband had been when Hermione had chosen to go through with partaking of the potion.

"Weasley," Severus said once more, like he was testing how the word sounded on his tongue. "Not the girl? She could have successfully brewed it."

"No."

"Definitely not Pansy. She may be capable but would never do it and certainly not for Miss Granger. There are only a few people Ron Weasley knows who are capable of brewing _Memoria Obscurare _and at the same time be ignorant enough to do it."

And then something clicked behind the older wizard's eyes, and his mouth set into a grim line of annoyance and ire. "George."


	10. Chapter 10

Thick, puffy snowflakes fell upon the shops' roofs and cobblestoned streets of Diagon Alley. It was dark outside, but Draco chose to stay in the shadows, staring icily at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes joke shop from afar. Knowing that his stomach and chest pains came from a curse, the pangs inside him felt more intense. Honestly, he was scared. Breaking the Hermione's heart should have some consequences, but Draco imagined he already had suffered them. Severing his relationship and ties with her and marrying Astoria was a different kind of hell for him. Only until the birth of Scorpius, he felt like he could actually forgive himself for what he had done to the girl he had loved years ago. Dying for breaking a bird's heart was a little morbid, even if the woman was Granger. Or so he told himself.

The bright lights of the joke shop diminished, and Draco saw George Weasley in the window of the entrance door. The man opened the door and following behind was Lee Jordan who Draco vaguely recalled from Hogwarts. The two men laughed heartily at something or other and shook hands before Jordan descended down the front steps and disappeared into the night, a feint popping sound of someone Disapparting followed_._

At the departure of his friend, George turned around and locked the door, and Draco emerged from the shadows, quietly but hastily arriving at the bottom of the front steps. He watched as the other wizard finished locking the door and turn around, Weasley clearly startled when seeing him and quickly composed himself.

"Malfoy, what do you want?" he asked coldly when climbing down the steps.

"Walk with me," Draco stated calmly, nudging his head to the right.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," George retorted incredulously, giving Draco a wary eye before moving to get around him.

"Oh, yes you are." Draco nodded pointedly, stepping to left to block George from leaving. "You see, Weasley, we have to talk about your little brother and a favor you did for him about…oh…I'd say ten years ago. Let's discuss this at the Leaky Cauldron over a drink, yeah?"

George's eyes narrowed and crossed his arms, standing to his full height. A few moments passed between them before he gave Draco a curt nod, both walking the short distance to the Leaky Cauldron in silence. Upon arrival they sat at a table for two that was away from the other patrons and gave their order to their server. Draco ordered water, thinking it best to not drink any alcohol with his current illness. Didn't want to speed things along. George didn't order anything but sat rigid in his chair.

"The favor wasn't for _him_. I don't know how you found out but leave me alone, and leave Hermione alone," George hissed, beginning where their conversation had left off.

"It's too late for that," Draco quipped and stole a sip of his water. "Obviously, I know now that she can't remember me, and it was you who successfully brewed _Memoria Obscurare_. Congratulations on your part. Difficult to make, I hear. I find that impressive, especially since you, your brother, and Hermione have successfully killed me. Bravo."

George's brow furrowed and shot him an incredulous expression. "What the bloody hell are you talking about? Killed you? You're right here, you daft arse."

"Oh, so you _didn't_ know." Draco feigned surprise with an enlightened expression on his face. "Tell me, did you just brew the potion and not study the history or side effects?"

A worried look passed over George. "Is Hermione okay?"

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. "Are you not listening? I'm the one that's not okay. The potion does have a dire side effect…but not on the one who drinks it. The one who is forgotten is the one who suffers. _Memoria Obscurare_ is Dark Magic and you'd be bloody thick to not know shite like that has consequences. The potion, when consumed, forms a failsafe inside the consumer, so the forgetter can never be threatened again by the same person. To ensure that, it releases a curse on that person if ever they should cross paths again. The curse is an illness designed to kill. Ulcers. Depending on the amount of exposure I have had, depends on how long I will have until I die. I've calculated that I have a year or maybe eighteen months of agony before I'm bumped off."

The corner of George's mouth ticked, and Draco seriously considered reaching over and punching him in the mug. The self-righteous wanker probably thought something along the lines of 'just deserts.'

"It sounds like you need a Curse Breaker. You've come to the wrong Weasley, Malfoy. Now if you'll just excuse me…" George made a notion to leave.

"I've already looked into it, and it won't work. I'm putting my faith into the counteragent of _Memoria Obscurare_. I've decided since you're the one who brewed the shite in first place, you can fix it."

But George was out of chair and shoving his hands into his pockets, his smirk forming into a snarl. "If I do that, Hermione will remember everything, Malfoy. _Everything_. Can you live with her hating you? Because she couldn't."

"I won't live at all if I don't risk it. In the twenty years I've known Granger, only two of those years she didn't hate me. Eighteen years I've lived knowing she didn't like me. I can go longer. I _have _to. I know you think I deserve this. That I got what was coming to me, but I have a family: a son and mother who need me. This is bigger than Hermione and her feelings."

George snorted in disgust and lolled his head to the side, his expression pensive. Eventually nodded in acceptance. "Fine, but I don't like it. In fact, I hate it. I'm going to be honest, Malfoy, I don't want to do it, but I will. Getting the materials for the counteragent will take me a while. I hope you can hold on for that long."

Draco inwardly grimaced as he felt that blasted burning sensation in his stomach heating up. He thought of Hermione and the child she was pregnant with. There would be no way he could give it to her until she gave birth, so there really was no rush. The concoction would be lethal to the fetus. Draco's life may be larger than Hermione's issues, but it was not greater than Hermione's child. If he forced it down her gullet and miscarriage followed, she _would_ kill him, and he would probably let her. Bastard or not, he could never destroy his own blood.

"Just have it ready for me when you can. I'll choose when to give it to her, but I've wondered about something. Call it curiosity or whatever," said Draco. "Why did you help her?"

"My brother asked for a favor and-" George started.

Draco shook his head and made a noise of denial. "A decent bloke like you wouldn't have complied by making an illegal potion just because a snotty little brother asked you to. Again, I ask, why did you help her?"

"Hermione is special to me, too, Malfoy," George defended. "She's like a sister to me. I don't expect a self-loving prat like yourself to understand the concept of loving anything more than your own arrogant arse."

"So you would have done it for Ginny?" inquired Draco with a quirked brow. "Because, you know, she's _is_ your sister."

"Depending on the circumstances, I suppose."

"Hmm," Draco noised and stroked his chin. "Perhaps I should ask a different question. Why did you think it was okay for Hermione to forget me? I know you are all about fun and games and jokes and loving girls like siblings, but this was dangerous and terribly risky. From what I here, not everyone agreed with Hermione's decision. What did you have to gain by it?"

George shot another glare at him but said nothing, making Draco wonder about the bloke's platonic claim concerning Granger.

"Sister, huh? You love Hermione like a sister? For some reason, I doubt that."

Draco would have smirked or taunted him but he wasn't sure himself. The concept was foreign: George Weasley fancying Hermione Granger. Maybe for a second during Hogwarts, but Ron would have had a better chance. _He did_ have the better chance. When the youngest male Weasley and Granger broke things off, George and Angelina had yet to become serious. George could have severed whatever he had with Johnson and lay claim on Granger if he had wanted, so Draco had doubts the man secretly harbored some romantic feelings for her.

"Stop digging when there's nothing to find," said George. "I don't fancy Hermione and never had. I'm a married man if you can't recall and like I said, I consider her a sister. If things could've been different…"

Draco's eyes widened at George's hesitation. Was that it? That's why he did it? Because Granger could have married the youngest Weasley git but didn't? That wasn't right. Ron and Pansy were already married with children when Hermione partook of the potion. Surely, George would have accepted his younger brother's choice of wife by then.

"Hermione and Ron never had a chance," Draco said with a shake of his head and then something dawned on him. "Unless…you're not talking about Ron."

George scowled and stalked out of the Leaky Cauldron. Draco didn't immediately go after him. He sat back in his seat, dumbfounded and tried to remember something, anything from someplace in time. Eventually he found himself back at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall at Hogwarts during his fifth year before the Weasley Twins made their grand departure. He had stared across the room at the Gryffindor table and each brave and pompous student was like a pitiful comedy script waiting to be scoffed at and discarded. Potter was sullenly staring at his food; sitting next to him was Weasley who was stuffing his face. By Weasley was Granger who had been completely ignoring her herb and dumpling stew, attempting to suffocate herself in an open tomb. Placed next to her were the Weasley Twins. Draco could never tell those freckled arses apart. The one closest to Granger repetitively poked at her arm, trying to get her attention. She'd swat his finger away like she would a pestering bug, her eyes focused determinedly on the dusty, yellowed pages of the book. When the probing failed, he tugged on one of her curls. Again, she fluttered her hand and spared him no glance. This lasted the entire meal, and Draco remembered being utterly appalled by Hermione's patience with that irritating tosser beside her. The Granger he knew would have shrilled and hit until the problem went away.

Draco got up and left the Leaky Cauldron, following after George. He hoped the man had yet to Disapparate. He saw him walking down the street towards Apparartion Grounds, and Draco ran towards him. When he caught up to him, he spoke, "I am sorry about your brother. Fred, right? That was his name?"

George's shoulders tensed, but he kept walking. "I'll have the counteragent for you in a month. I'll send it to you when it's done."

"Your brother hid his crush well. I don't think Hermione ever knew," said Draco.

"No one knew." George turned around and hissed and then cursed, like he realized what he just admitted. Draco expected him to flee after that, but he didn't. He just stopped walking and rested his shoulder blades against the wall of a shop and stared at the falling snow with a deep frown on his face.

Draco was an only child and had just a few close friends growing up. He lost Vincent the day of the Battle of Hogwarts in the Room of Requirement, and Gregory never spoke to him again. They had all been friends. Or maybe it would have been better to call them allies, but the feeling of loss was still there. That feeling was probably a tickle compared to losing an actual brother or sister. Draco was unsure of what to say but piped up anyway regardless if it was the right thing.

"Fred was gone when Hermione and I were no longer together. He was gone when we were," he said softly.

"And whose fault is that?" George asked harshly, and Draco snorted.

"Not mine, if that's what you're thinking. Hermione didn't think so either. Why did you make her forget when Fred was already gone? You had nothing to gain, and he certainly didn't."

George fiercely glowered at him and shook his head from side to side before bobbing it up and down. "Yes I did. I knew if I helped her with this, then in some way I was helping _him_. You're right. He's gone, but the things he loved the most and the things he deserved in life are not, Malfoy." He cleared his throat and shoved his hands inside his pockets. "In a month."

Draco watched George stalk off down the street, disappearing into a large crowd that exited Curly Girly's Bookshop. The crowd dispersed and the last figure to leave the building was Hermione. Stealthily, Draco took a step back and hid behind a corner, watching as she locked up the door of her shop and walk towards the Leaky Cauldron. He fought the desire to follow her and walked in the opposite direction towards the Apparition Grounds and Disapparated home.

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A/N: I hope the chapter was enjoyable and informative. Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have put this fic on their favorite list. Please read and review and tell me what you think.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Hope everyone liked the previous chapter. Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers and those who have put this story on their list of favorites.

Thank you **Musette Fujiwara** for all the wonderful reviews you've given. I know you had a few questions, but you'll have to wait and see. :)

This chapter is a little longer than the last couple so yay! Read and review and tell me what you think. :)

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"Draco, I demand you tell me what the matter is this instant," Lucius clipped and Draco squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out his father's voice, his mind wandering elsewhere, far away from this plane of existence.

"Draco!" his father bellowed.

"What?" Draco howled while lifting his forehead from the mantle to scowl up at his father's portrait.

"You have an indentation on your forehead, son," Lucius pointed out irascibility. "Now tell me why you have been acting so strangely. You hardly ever spend time in the office anymore. How are getting any work done?"

"I do have another office. It's at my office building. It actually was your office building, Father. It's the place I go during the day, so I can keep the family's galleons in the millions. That is where I get my work done. That is where I spend all my time."

His father arched a brow at his sarcasm but didn't comment. Instead, he studied his son's appearance and said, "You don't look well. Go to your mother and have her take care of you."

"I don't need Mother to take care of me!" Draco shouted and bolted away from the fireplace, towards the mini-bar. Cursed ulcers be damned. He was having a drink.

Not caring that his father would most likely hop off to his portrait in the master quarters and tattle to his wife, Draco filled his glass to the near brim and guzzled.

"Please, son, tell me what is upsetting you so," his father calmly pleaded with ample amount of strain in his voice.

Draco swallowed the last of his drink and wiped his lips with the back of his hand and winced in pain. Flares of blistering heat swelled up inside of him, and he supposed downing a good measure of alcohol to upset his dead patriarch was a bit overdramatic and a little careless. He stood strong, though. Malfoy pride and all.

Draco wanted to tell him everything.

Badly.

Well, maybe not everything. The important things would be adequate enough.

Like how he was cursed and dying.

He needed to console in someone about his situation. Severus would just tell him to dry his tears and be patient. George Weasley knew about the illness, but Draco would have to drink twenty more glasses of Firewhiskey for him to show up at that Weasel's hovel in hopes of some comfort, meaning death would occur before he'd do something so foolish.

Maybe Draco _should_ go to his mother and have her take care of him, but that idea was quickly dismissed. He would have to drink twelve more glasses to go that route. His mother would have a right fit if he told her he was dying. Of course, he would tell her everything because he would be sloshed, and then she'd be angrier and wail, gnash her teeth, and brew the counter potion herself and force feed it to Granger, uncaring if her illegitimate, Half-Blood grandchild was developing inside the girl.

Draco poured himself another glass, thinking he better get started. He needed to see how drunk he could get before he found a shoulder to cry on.

* * *

On Glass four, he gripped his wand and considered Apparating to Granger's and shagging her until the brink of triplets. Across his drunken mind, he saw tempting images of her delectably naked form spread out across a kitchen countertop. Her stomach would be round and above her womanly roundness would be that scar she received from Dolohov, and he would drizzle caramel over the flaw and languidly lick off the sugary goop. He would tell her how beautiful she was and forbid her from showing her scar to anyone but him because she was his and was the only one who fully appreciated her imperfections. Fire would ignite in her eyes, and she would wrap her arms around him and tell him she remembered everything and had forgiven him and missed him terribly.

But then Draco sullenly remembered the more time he spent with her, the quicker his death would come.

* * *

On Glass number eight in-a-half, he flicked a little Floo powder into the fireplace and shouted something or other. The first thing he could think of. With sad and a soupy smile, he stepped out of the fireplace and absorbed his surroundings. His eyes fell on the couple copulating on the desk and let out a belch to make his presence known. The couple stopped mid-_ahem_ and turned to face the intruder. The woman, who was on top wore the oddest pair of glasses Draco had ever seen, gifted him a dazzling smile and enthusiastically waved her greeting much like a child waved excitedly to a loved one.

"Draco!" she exclaimed whimsically. "It's so good to see you. I haven't seen you in years. My goodness, your head is sure full of Wrackspurts."

"Lovegood?" questioned Draco, slitting his eyes to focus them better on the girl's blurry and blonde form. He quickly averted his eyes when he realized she was naked and wondered how he ended up at Lovegood's.

"Draco, what the bloody hell are you doing?" a peeved, grumbling voice came from the desk. Risking a look at Lovegood again, Draco swiveled his eyes at the desk and saw Blaise trapped beneath her.

"Blaise!" he greeted with a smile. "Hello! Can I have a drink with you?"

"Uh…" Blaise arched his brows and blinked. "I'm a little busy."

"With Lovegood," added Draco with a nod. "Don't mind me then. I'll just be over here helping myself to the gin. When you're finished, can we talk? It's important. It's about Granger."

"Hermione? I haven't seen her in a while either," Luna said with happiness in her dulcet tone. Draco saw her peer down at the man she was straddling. "Will she be visiting, too?"

"It's one in the morning. Only crazy drunk people Floo to other people's homes at one in the morning for a visit, love. Hermione is neither one of those things," Blaise gently told her, like he was talking to a child and not a fully developed woman. Grinning, Draco lazily eyed the soft pale curves of Lovegood. Fully developed woman, indeed.

"Get your soddin' eyes off her, mate, or I'll bloody toss you back into the fire without even a sprinkle of powder!" Blaise growled and then softened his tone when gazing up Luna. "Sweetheart, slip on that pretty robe I had so much fun ridding you of and wait for me in the bedroom. Make the bed all warm for me, would you? And then when I'm done killing Draco, I'll come and join you and take the robe off again. Hmm? Would you like that?"

"Mmm, yes." Lovegood bobbed her head up and down and swung her leg off of him and hopped from the desk to pick up her robe and slip it on. She brushed by Draco, smiled warmly at him, and disappeared into the hallway but not before saying to Blaise, "Don't serve him any alcohol. It will only hurt him more."

When she was fully out of earshot, Draco licked his loose lips and giggled liquidly. "Where'd you find her, mate?"

"That's none of your concern, Draco," Blaise said while pulling on his trousers and buckling his belt. "Why are you here and sloshed? Granger business, you said? Thought you were done with her."

"Done with her?" Draco questioned forlornly and whipped his head from left to right in denial. "I can't be done with her. I want her."

Blaise paused his fingers which were buttoning up his shirt and stared at him in disbelief. "Want her? Draco, just a few days ago you said 'screw her' and bolted."

"And I did."

"You're joking."

"No, I really did. Remember at the party how you said she was there."

"After you were done shouting at me, you went and found her and screwed her?"

"No, she found me."

"And then you shagged."

"No."

"…"

"I'm going to be a dad, Blaise," snickered Draco in a low and quiet voice like he was telling a secret. Ignoring Blaise's horrified expression, he turned his attention to the bar in front of him and flipped two glasses upwards and shakily filled them with Firewhiskey. Carefully, he turned around, but not _too_ quickly, and handed one of the glasses to his mate who was still rather petrified. Numbly, the man took the offered drink and held it to his chest like it was a lifeline.

"Draco," Blaise said carefully. "For a moment, I thought you said you were going to be a dad."

"And I am…again." Draco beamed and partially leaned his body against the bar for support as he raised his glass in a salute. "Let's celebrate. A toast to me for knocking Granger up! It only took ten years apart, a failed marriage, George Weasley, and a potion to get this far! Clink your glass against mine, and we will drink for, not only celebrating the conception of the first ever Half-Blood Malfoy baby, but the conception of what we hope to be a girl! May she grow up to be as hot as her mum but never allowed to court arses like me! Here, here!"

Draco clinked his glass with Blaise's which was still dwelling against his chest.

"Granger's pregnant?" Blaise whispered in a terrified tone of voice.

"Yup," Draco said and began nursing his drink.

"You're the father?"

With the glass still glued to his lips, Draco nodded. Blaise mimicked the notion but more gently, like he was coming to accept he was not having an anomalously lucid dream and was regrettably conscious. He tilted his chin downwards and stared blankly into his glass before bringing it up to his lips and swallowing all the liquid in one long gulp. When he was done, he set down his glass at the bar and reached for the bottle of Firewhiskey.

Moments passed and Blaise eventually set the nearly empty bottle aside while Draco had moved on to tequila.

"You shouldn't mix, Draco," pointed out Blaise uncaringly.

"I'm dying anyways," mumbled Draco.

"That's unfortunate."

"Tell me about it."

"So Granger, huh? You shagged her again? I thought you were done with her."

"I was," Draco defended dourly. "But she came to the party looking all pretty and telling me that she's pregnant, and I'm the one who did it, and she's sad. Later we meet, and she's yelling at me and telling me to get away from her, and she's loud, so I kiss her. Remember how I used to do that to her when she was upset. It was a sure way to _hold her tongue_ if you know what I mean. We shag, and then I wake up and she's naked and wild haired and telling me how she doesn't remember me at all from school, but she remembers_ you_." He bit out and glared at his best mate. "And then she's throwing up, then there's her scar issue, and she's all ashamed and shite. What the hell, mate? I don't get it."

"Hermione doesn't have any scars," Blaise slurred, his brow wrinkling. "Her skin is flawless and _so_ _smooth_. As smooth as Luna's even."

"She hides them, and I mean…I knew they were there, I just forgot, and then she showed me. She was sad after that, but I tried to make her feel pretty. I don't think anyone has made her feel pretty in a long time."

"I tried to make her feel pretty," Blaise offered with a crestfallen expression. "But I admit I was rather torn up about Daphne at the time."

Silence and awkwardness enveloped both of their demeanors.

"Ginny told me everything," Draco said softly, his eyes wet and focused elsewhere. "Ginny told me Hermione hated me so much that she drank a potion to forget me."

"Draco," Blaise started and nudged his head to the side, gesturing for Draco to join him on the sofa. They gathered their glasses and a fresh bottle of Firewhiskey and plopped down on the seats. The glasses were filled, and Blaise continued, "You broke her heart. Terrible thing it was that you did, but I understood why at the time, and I understand now. Doesn't make it any less horrible, though."

"They were going to disown me, my parents. Father was a cough away from hell. I had to, Blaise. I didn't want to. I loved Granger. She was so…" A whimsical smile formed on his lips, "bloody flexible. Still is. I bet she still does…what's it called? Yoga?"

"Luna does yoga."

"Does she?"

"Yeah." Blaise chuckled into his glass. "It's all the rage now. All the younger generation of witches are doing it to keep fit."

"Explains the baby boom. Seems like every lass is pregnant or just had a baby."

"Luna's not pregnant." Blaise smile rather smugly. "She's on the Contraceptive Potion."

"You mean the potion Granger consumed ever so faithfully before I planted my seed?" Draco sniggered darkly, and Blaise's normally dark skin lost a few shades of color, especially in the facial area. "I tell you, mate. It's a conspiracy. I wonder if those yoga instructors are jinxing the classrooms with Fertility Charms."

"I'll look into it," Blaise said seriously.

"Speaking of conspiracy…" Draco finished of his glass before pouring himself another portion of alcohol. "Like I said, I've figured everything out with Granger and why, and who, and what, and where."

"Have you?"

"Yeah," smiled Draco, but it was forced. "I did. For a price, though."

"Everything comes with a price, Draco. We learned that in school. Hell, we learned that from our parents, and even from some of our friends."

"Gods, I've drank the Black Lake's worth of Firewhiskey, and I'm sobering," groaned Draco as he rubbed his eyes and his forehead. His eyes stung and his throat swelled. The pain in stomach was gone, but he knew it would return with a vengeance sooner or later.

"Merlin, are you tearing up?" Blaise question in a baffled voice. "Is it because your tipsy or because of something else?"

"Both," sniffled Draco, and he swallowed. "Blaise, the price was too high."

"Why? Because Granger's up the duff with your bastard? No need to get into a state of the sniffles, Draco. Happens to the best of us. There's a whole race of Half-bloods conceived from a scandalous affair between sexy Muggle-Borns and kind of married Purebloods."

Draco exhaled softly with a grim smile. "That's not really what worries me. I wasn't joking when I said I was dying."

And he told Blaise everything.

"Mate," whispered his friend and morosely nudged his friend in the bicep with a playful punch. "I always said Granger was going to be the death of you. Are you sure you can hang in there for seven months?"

"I have to."

"She's going to have to do this all by herself, you know. You say you want her, but you can't be there. If by chance she contacts you for anything, you can't run to her side."

"I don't want her, _want her_," Draco claimed and Blaise rolled his eyes with a scoff. "And I know I can't be there. I think she'll be okay, though. I don't think she has a lot of faith in men."

"She doesn't," Blaise confirmed.

"I'm going to take advantage of that fact. I'm sure Potter's wife will be thrilled."

"You won't be there to see her give birth. How do you feel about that? I'm not sure what you and Granger have, but it's still a baby you made with her."

"I don't even know if I'll ever even get the privilege to properly meet the kid," snorted Draco but was anything mirthful. "She'll have the baby, and I'll give her time to heal and such before scampering over and spiking her tea with the counteragent. Then she'll remember and hate me again and leave. I won't see her ever again. I won't hear from her ever again, and she won't let me near the child."

"You don't know that." Blaise patted Draco's shoulder in comfort. "If the baby is cute enough, she'll forgive you and want more. Until then, I suggest you start working out. Look fit and build those muscles. Ladies like that."

"I have health concerns at the moment, and I'm not necessarily looking to court Granger again. Bloody hell, Blaise, I wish…I wish that I had never made my feelings known unto her when we were young. Better yet, it would have been better ifFred_ Bloody _Weasley lived. She would've been happy with him. He would've made her laugh."

Blaise stroked his chin. "I suppose, but you and Granger had something special for a while there. Great memories."

"Which she hid from herself," Draco broodily reminded his friend.

"If it wouldn't turn into such an effing disaster, would you not want them either? And really think about it, before you answer."

"No, I wouldn't want them, especially now that I know everything."

"You didn't even think about it, Draco. Do you even remember?"

"Of course I do," Draco snarled, tossing his friend a dirty look.

"Really? Are the memories something you can just think back on, or are you _really_ remembering them?"

"You're such a sap, Blaise."

"And you're a tosser. I'm just arguing with you. For the smartest witch of our era, Granger made a stupid decision, and I know you won't make the same mistake, but you should never think some memories aren't worth the trouble. Every memory, good or bad, is worth having. They are like history, and sometimes they keep us from repeating things that shouldn't be repeated. Most likely, Magical Britain will never have a war like we grew up with ever again. Everything that happened from when we were children up until the end was essential. We saw the mistakes our parents made, and we won't do the same. Our children are growing up in a world they deserve because of our memories.

"Despite Daphne being a Greengrass again, I have Tamara and Jacob every weekend. Most importantly, I have Tamara and Jacob and fabulous memories of their mother before we both decided to have our Midlife Crisis in our early years and at the same time. I'd do it again, you know, even if I knew I couldn't change a damned thing between their mother and me. Anyway, I've left my blonde nymph waiting long enough. Crash here or go back home. Don't care. Just think about what I said."

Draco watched Blaise leave and then refilled his glass and took a sip. He was going to need it if he was going to take his mate's advice.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Thank you readers and such! Here is Chapter 12. Please Read and Review and tell me your thoughts. :)

* * *

Sometimes Draco wished he married Pansy Parkinson and courted her properly during their teenage years. He wished he had put more effort into loving her like a companion rather than a medial friend. Their parents would have esteemed the partnership and all would have been well. No Hermione and no Astoria.

If Draco had married Pansy, they would have been happy…for years. And when he meant years, he meant a few. Their love and respect for each other would have grown after the engagement and flourished after the Honeymoon. Once they had a child, they would be content. Unfortunately, Pansy did not do content. It was not good for her. She wanted happiness, and Draco reckoned that was why he kept his feelings for her relatively platonic when they were children. He knew he could never make her happy. He would give her jewels and galleons, and she would have smiled and ogled, but what she really wanted was to be tackled to the floor and impregnated several times with ginger-haired babies.

Pansy had been an only child and when her parents had passed on not long after her the birth of her first born, she inherited their galleons, estates, and business. She and her husband and their load currently lived quite comfortably in her childhood manor.

Draco was in his friend's manor at the particular moment. He was sitting in the West Tea Room where all the walls were pristinely washed windows, bestowing a spectacular view of snow covered hills littered with evergreens. In his arms was the youngest Parkinson-Weasley concoction while mischievous cackles of the older children echoed throughout the halls. He held Rose's little body upwards, and she eyed his face and hair keenly. To return the favor, he eyed her chubby cheeks, upturned button nose, and the wisps of red hair in intrigue.

"She is rather darling, I admit," Draco haughtily said, earning a pleased beam from Pansy. He stretched the baby towards her mother and was taken and smooched repetitively on the cheeks. This was another thing he would not have provided Pansy. If they had been together, he'd be satisfied with one male child and see little reason to produce more.

"She is, isn't she?" Pansy snuggled her baby closer to her bosom and gently swayed in her seat.

Taking a sip of his steaming cuppa, his insides boiled in retaliation. Casually, Draco set the cup down and said, "Pansy, I think we both know why I'm here."

His friend stared at him briefly before looking away and staring at the falling snow outside the window. "I'm in denial. I'm in denial you did something so stupid, Draco."

Her words stung, and Draco tempted himself in informing her of his cursed illness with intent of getting sympathy. Instead, he asked, "How much did Ginny tell you?"

"Everything, I think." She nibbled at her bottom lip pensively and told him, "Ron doesn't know. I feel awful not telling him, but it's not my place. It's really Granger's business. Draco, he doesn't even know you two slept together and neither does Potter." A snort erupted from Pansy. "Potter doesn't know anything about what's going on. He doesn't even know you ran into her at her shop, and Ginny is stressing herself out with the baby coming and trying to keep Hermione's delicacy under the radar. She doesn't understand why Ginny's acting secretive and sees no harm in telling her friends about the baby. About you. But Ginny persuaded her to keep quiet for now."

"Let's hope she has the power long enough to withhold Hermione's tongue. I'm not quite ready to die yet," chuckled Draco for his own benefit. Expectedly, the humor was lost on Pansy. "Talking about Hermione and everyone and everything is not the only reason why I'm here. I have come to acquire something I believe is in this house."

She shifted the baby in her arms and frowned. "What are you looking for?"

Draco swallowed and relaxed his forearms on the table. "Ten years ago Hermione gave something to Ron before she…before she drank that potion. She told him to get rid of it. If he didn't and still has it, I believe he hid it somewhere on your property. It may be a box. It's probably rather small-"

"I can't give that to you," Pansy blurted and he blinked in surprise, having been only half-serious about the box. He thought for sure Ron would have set fire to it or tossed it into the sea and then wondered why he hadn't.

"So you admit he failed to get rid of the box?" Draco questioned hopefully.

Pressing her lips forcefully together, she situated Rose so the baby's head rested on her shoulder and said, "No, Draco."

"They are my memories, too. What good are they doing to anyone hiding?" Draco argued.

"Ronald would be furious if I gave that box to you," Pansy explained.

"So tell me where it is. You wouldn't be giving it to me, just merely informing me of its whereabouts."

"It's the same thing."

Draco sighed acceptingly and unsheathed his wand from his inner coat pocket. "I didn't want to do this, Pansy. _Accio_ Hermione's Memory Box!"

She inhaled sharply, her eyes wide and clearly upset. They both waited until a little box came zooming into the Tea Room. Both former Slytherins reached for it, but Draco being a former Seeker and not holding a baby, was able to snatch it first. He smiled in triumph as a vicious expression of contempt burst upon his friend's features. His grin faltered, though, when he gave the box a proper look. It was the box Hermione's engagement ring once dwelt in. She must have enlarged the box to properly fit everything inside before shrinking it back to normal size.

The box was a deep, rich, emerald-green of plush velvet fabric with the Malfoy Family Crest on the top. The ring had belonged to his grandmother. He may have taken back the ring, but he did not ask for the box.

"Draco, please," Pansy begged, her eyes watering.

He glanced up at her stoically and asked, "Will Ron notice its absence?"

"Eventually," she murmured, her shoulders sagging. Her baby began to whimper, sensing distress from her mother.

"Then tell him that I stole it. It's not a lie."

"You are being selfish, Draco. Why can't you see above your own conceit whenever you hurt someone?" He flinched at her wounding inquiry, unable to recall a time she had called him out on his selfishness. "You have just placed me in a hard situation. When Ron gets home this evening, should I tell him right away what you've done or should I wait for him to realize the box is gone? Either way, there will be an argument, and he's going to blame me for what happened. I slipped and told you the box was still around. I will take blame for that, but he trusted me with this, and I let him down."

Pansy was not yelling nor was she distraught and thought it would be better if she had been and watched her stand up from her chair and tell him, "I think you should leave."

* * *

While pacing in his home office with Hermione's memory box on the table, guilt could not dilute the satisfaction of acquiring it. Nevertheless, like he told Blaise, the price had been too high and he was quite literally paying with his life.

"You are wearing a hole into the carpet," Lucius pointed out from his portrait. "Tell me what is on your mind. You've been distant lately and haven't talked to me in days."

"You don't want to know, Father. Believe me."

"I see an engagement box on your desk. Have you got a witch in mind already? The divorce hasn't been completed," his father said reprovingly.

"It's not a ring, Father. It's full of memories."

"Memories?" his father's eyebrows rose comically, an amused smile forming on his lips. "How utterly poetic."

"It's not a metaphor of romantics. There are memories in there. Perhaps there are some vials of real memories, but when I say memories, I mean pictures and other trinkets."

"Pictures? Pictures of what, may I ask?"

"Of Hermione Granger and I," admitted Draco, exhausted of keeping this away from him.

Lucius' eyes narrowed and he scoffed in disgust. "Don't tell me you're considering getting back together with that Mudblood."

Eleven years ago, Draco would have defended Hermione to his then living and healthy father. He would have relished the horror-struck Lucius when announcing his love for Hermione and plans to marry her someday and have precious, little Half-blood babies sharing the Malfoy name.

But that was years ago. Instead, Draco felt annoyance at his father's name-calling and waved dismissive fingers at the portrait and chose his words carefully. "I have no immediate plans to court Miss Granger. I am still a married man, but I do admit of having…strayed. For that, I must suffer the consequences."

"Consequences?" Lucius' lips curled in distress. "Define consequences, my boy."

"She is with child," Draco solemnly said, purposefully stopping there, for his father was unprepared to hear the rest.

The painting of Lucius Malfoy sucked in an unneeded breath as his hands came up and adjusted his tie and the collar of his robes. He frostily said, "Really? How unexpected. Does your mother know?"

"Not yet."

"Ah." The man's slit eyes widened momentarily at the revelation. "Do you plan telling her?"

"Not in the near future."

"And does Miss Granger plan to go through with the pregnancy? She is of Muggle descent, and I heard of a method where their kind of Healer can make problems such as these go away. When I heard about such a ghastly procedure, I nearly hurled at the thought, but there are always exceptions of participating in the crudest of acts."

"Hermione wants to keep the baby," Draco unwillingly informed and his father sneered.

"Does she want money out of you? Perhaps you should give her some. Persuade her to terminate that thing."

"We both know Hermione was and never will be interested in my money. She has her own now, and owns a rather large chain of bookstores."

"How quaint." Lucius' voice was jagged like broken glass. "Can you at least persuade her from keeping the fetus? Can't she give it away or something? Think of your name, son. Have you no pride in your family?"

"Of course I do!" Draco incredulously barked. "I've given up so much for this family, but you know how that woman is!"

His father let out a growl and stuck up his nose. "Unacceptable! A Half-blood baby in the Malfoy family! Once my father hears about this…" Lucius lingered to compose himself once more. "You will need to send her away. Set her up in some Muggle villa with books, a House-elf, and an account for the…" his left eyelid twitched, "baby. It would be considerate to pay for all tuition fees."

"Send her away?" Draco laughed. "Did you not hear me go off about her? She turns into a mad woman when you order her to do something."

"So what are you going to do then? Hmm? Are you going to marry her when the ink on the divorce papers dries and soil the Malfoy name? Give Scorpius a sibling? Are you going to run off in the bloody sunset together and live happily ever after just like you both always wanted?"

Draco scowled at his father and contemplated yanking the man's portrait from the wall and tossing it into the fire.

"No. She is going to do whatever that she wants, and I will be here. She will move on in life with the baby. I highly expect her absence in England once the baby is born," he honestly said and half-lied through the rest. "I may even sporadically show up and see the child if Hermione allows it. I will give gifts and whatnot, and Owl cards, and presents on birthdays and Christmas, but fathering a bastard child will not change anything between me and Hermione, Mum, and especially Scorpius."

Draco waved his wand and cast a Silencing spell on his father and took the quiet opportunity in returning to his desk. He drilled his eyes into the box, wanting the contraption to fill his mind with the secrets lying within without actually opening it.

Inhaling deeply, he straightened his shoulders in determination and pointed his wand at the box, enlarged it so each side was the length of an arm. Before losing his nerve, he flipped the golden latch at the front and opened it with a loud creak. A puff of dust billowed out at him and dispersed, hazily exposing a load of jam-packed baubles tightly inside. Feeling whole-heartedly miffed at Hermione for literally getting rid of everything, he frowned into the open box and slipped his hand inside.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N**: I'm so sorry for the delay! I really am, but the original chapter was catastrophic and took me forever to be satisfied with it. I really do apologize and hope it was worth wait. Please enjoy and tell me your thoughts on it. :)

* * *

_Inhaling deeply, he straightened his shoulders in determination and pointed his wand at the box, enlarging it so each side was the length of an arm. Before losing his nerve, he flipped the golden latch at the front and opened it with a loud creak. A puff of dust billowed out at him and dispersed, hazily exposing a load of jam-packed baubles tightly inside. Feeling whole-heartedly miffed at Hermione for literally getting rid of everything, he frowned into the open box and slipped his hand inside._

Draco's hand emerged, pulling out a stuffed toy bear with a pink bow wrapped around its neck and a small card strung around the little furry arm. Running a finger across the dust-matted fur, he traced a pattern to the card and opened it and read,

_To my Dearest Bookworm and Love of my Life,_

_I give you this bear on this silly little display of affection because I want to make you smile, so you will be less reluctant to shag me this night. Happy Valentine's Day, Granger._

_With all my Horny Heart,_

_Draco._

He recalled Hermione's gushing at the bear and watched with an inflated ego as she cuddled the gift to her chest before opening the card, her smile hastily morphing into a horrified gape. She then decided to punch him in the bicep with his crass words, thinking the words 'shag' and 'horny' unromantic.

Along with the bear, he had made her breakfast. Or more like burnt it. He attempted heart-shaped pancakes but ended up looking similar to blackened checkmarks. Expectedly, Hermione hadn't touched the pancakes and neither had he, but she did think his attempt kind of cute. All in all, they raided the fridge of maple syrup, chocolate sauce, glazed strawberries, chunky peanut butter, whipped cream, and then proceeded to race each other to her bedroom where…

Draco felt something swell inside his throat. With a grimace, he placed the bear down on his desk and then grabbed something else out of the box. It was a photograph of them together in front of the Christmas tree at her parents' house. He had proposed in the front yard after building a snowman with her the Muggle way. He remembered staring up at her on bended-knee with the question ready on his tongue when her father came marching towards them with a disproving scowl. The irrational man bellowed at him, spouting about how he was supposed to ask permission from the father to marry the daughter.

He appeared peaky in the picture from the earlier encounter with her father, unlike Hermione who wiggled the fingers of her left hand, showing off the ring. His stomach hollowed out at the memory of when he demanded the jewel back, giving it to Astoria only months later. Hermione had loved the ring, and Astoria only saw it as an accessory.

Setting the frame aside with guilt laying heavy on his shoulders, he shoved his arm back into the box and retrieved a dingy knitted infant cap. It was a tiny thing in Draco's hand, and he gently rubbed his fingers over the delicate yarn and closed his eyes and remembered their first and only pregnancy scare, and both of them were scared shitless. Hermione had been _late_ and said she was going to take the test to make sure. Before she disappeared into the bathroom of her flat, he gave her this. The infant cap had been his when he was a baby. He had wanted her to know everything was going to be fine regardless what the pregnancy test verified.

Of course the test came back negative.

Draco put the cap aside, his hand diving back inside the box, coming in contact with some glass and pulled out a vial that housed the wispy essence of a memory. Hermione must have bottled some memories away before deciding to rid herself of all of them. He uncorked the vial and turned around to face his pensieve and poured the contents inside before sticking his head in into the basin and feeling himself disperse like an ink drop in a pot of boiling water. He expanded to see his younger self at twenty toss a twenty-one year old Hermione Granger over his shoulder and pack her inside his parents' villa in Italy. Between giggles, she demanded that he put her down. He had smirked and slapped her on the bum instead and toted her up the stairs and into his bedroom where he deposited her on the lush comforter and attacked her mouth with his own. The present Draco watched Hermione's engagement ring glint in the darkened room and remembered how they rang in the New Year after their Christmas engagement.

Draco had no particular reason to feel like a pervert while watching his younger self and younger Hermione make love, but he did. He felt like he was imposing and had no right to be there. Yet, he couldn't stop watching. He needed to see how far this memory went.

When the two were satiated for the time being, present-Draco watched as past-Hermione slightly moved away from his past self and prop her head up by the support of her elbow.

"I want to get pregnant," she had said.

The present Draco's eyes bulged and wracked his brain for this particular memory, eventually finding it glossed over and vague in the well-hidden depths of his mind. And to his astonishment, his past pelf laughed and told her, "We're not married, yet, Granger."

"We will be soon." Hermione shrugged with a smile, and young Draco was silent for a moment.

"I thought we weren't ready. We nearly pissed ourselves when we thought..."

Hermione rolled her eyes and bit her bottom lip nervously and then huskily said before pinning him to the mattress, "That was then. I think we'll be okay now. I want a baby, Draco. Give me one."

Not caring if Hermione's memory ended there or not, Draco yanked himself out of the pensieve, demolishing the intimate setting and with shaking hands, coerced the memory back inside the vile. He set it aside next to the bear and infant cap.

Of course, Hermione hadn't gotten pregnant after demanding he get her with child. However, the present concept was damned near absurd that it took one night…no…one round of 'okay' sex, cautioned with a contraceptive, and he still he got her up the duff. Bloody hell, Hermione hadn't even done anything to not get pregnant when they had been in a real relationship. It was like karma was laughing at them for both of their stupidity.

His gumption was fading with each passing moment, no longer feeling the need to dig inside the box. Every memory was beginning to hurt him. The curse was acting up. That sharp and acidy ache of the ulcers was engorging to new heights.

And it was because of Hermione's hate for him.

All the tugging and twisting inside him had sprouted from her hatred.

These were Hermione's memories of him, and she boxed them away and hid them herself. Like he told Ginny, she hated him. She had loathed him, and she turned her hatred for him into a physical element. Because of _Memoria Obscurare,_ when Draco ran into Hermione at the bookshop, that feeling had latched on to him, seeking out the enemy for retribution. He may not be near the girl, but this box and everything in it were hers.

The cursed pain was multiplying and he sat down, leaned over, and rested his forearms on his desk for support. What if he gave back her memories and the curse still wasn't lifted? If anything, it may cause a whole different problem, but Severus said it may be worth the risk. Still, what if he wasn't healed, and a Curse Breaker couldn't do shite.

His jaw began to tremble and his eyes humiliatingly stung. With a growl so primitive and piercing, he gripped the sides of the box and flung it at the wall, feeling just a smidgen of satisfaction as the lid broke, and all the contents spilled out with crashes, thumps, and splats.

The satisfaction only lasted a millisecond when his eyes landed on a book that spilled out with the other trinkets, the cover familiar. Slowly, he started towards it, the objects beneath him shattering and crunching from his steps. Wisps from the shattered memory vials floated around him as he stood over the tome.

_Hogwarts, A History: The First Edition_, the cover read.

And Draco nearly died_._ On their own accord, blasted tears welled up while his chin trembled. He clenched his eyes closed and hissed in pain. That sharp ache had erupted into something unfathomable, and he wished for reprieve because, _Great Salazar,_ the pain was unbearable. The discomfort, the pinching of the heart, the dull throb in the stomach turned into an unbearable attack upon his whole body. He tasted stomach acid and copper in the back of his throat and coughed. Tiny spatters of blood spewed from his lips and landed on the thick binding of the book.

He was aware that St. Mungo's was a pinch of Floo Powder away, and he should leave, but he _needed_ to stay, so he licked his blood spattered lips and remembered Hermione had loved _Hogwarts, A History._ It was her favorite book since she had received her Hogwarts letter twenty years prior, and she already had a basic copy. Furthermore, he had a few first editions in his family library, and on her twentieth birthday, he presented one to her, thus, earning him nightly shags for weeks following. Often during their love-making, she would gasp out things like, _"Did you know that Godric Gryffindor's son and Salazar Slytherin's daughter were having a steamy, scandalous affair and needed a place to have a their nightly rendezvous? They created what his now called The Room of Hidden Things."_

The tome lay open, its splayed pages pressing against the marble flooring and its cover and back facing upwards. Slowly, he reached over and caressed the golden lettering of the title with a fingertip before gently picking it up. As he did so, an envelope slipped out of the pages. Hesitantly, Draco stooped again and picked up the envelope. It was the color of ivory, sealed with red sealant, and completely blank. There was parchment in it, Draco could tell and smoothed his pointer finger over the wax, debating as to open it or not. It was kind of curious. Why was there a letter in the book from Hermione but not addressed to anyone? Was it even a letter? And why would she put such a thing in the book when she asked Ron to destroy the box in where they both dwelt?

Without giving it much more thought, he broke the sealant and slipped the parchment out of the envelope. It was folded in thirds, so Draco straightened out the paper with his hands and read the first line written in Hermione's neat, quill penmanship.

_Dear Draco,_

His heart thumped painfully against his chest bone and slithered downwards into the painful pit of liquid-fire called his stomach. His mouth also went dry, so he swallowed and continued to read:

_You should not have this letter. Ronald should have destroyed the box including _Hogwarts, A History: The First Edition _of where this letter was housed. If he broke that promise to me and somehow you have acquired this letter, then so be it. I can take this opportunity to tell you that by the time you are reading this, I will not remember you. There is a potion I have acquired. Once I have drunk it, you will no longer be a part in my memory. I will go through the rest of my life as if you had never been in it, and I'm anticipating for that change. _

_I want you to understand that I am not extracting you from my mind simply because I cannot stop loving you. I lost all love for you when I heard about your engagement to Astoria Greengrass. I am getting rid of you because you are not worth looking back upon. When I move on with my life, I refuse to have the face of a cowardly in my memory to distract me from what I deserve. I deserve happiness. I deserve loyalty. I deserve a man and not a scared little boy._

_One day, Draco, we may cross paths. If you read this letter before then, you will understand my complete lack of memory pertaining to you. If you read this letter afterwards, you were mostly likely confused. You may even research as to why I cannot place your memory. You may even try to restore my memories. Please refrain._

_If we may cross paths, I beg of you to not inform me of our past together along with keeping your distance. We are not a part of each other's lives anymore and have no right to dwell in them. You have chosen the life in a world where I do not belong. For me, I belong in no place particular which I find far more suitable than being bound to one world like yourself. I admit I was hoping to show you all kinds of worlds just like I hoped to be your wife and be the one to give you children. I know I made you happy during our time together, and if you would have let me, I would have done so for the rest of our lives. _

_You must know, Draco, you will marry the Pureblooded Astoria, but she will never challenge you in life like I had once done. So you will take this letter and the box of our memories, grow old in your cold, empty Manor with meaningless objects, and you will look back and wonder what might have been. As for I, I will fall in love again and eventually marry and have children that look nothing like you. I will grow old in a simple house, most likely with the love of my life by my side, and I will not look back and wonder what might have been. Goodbye forever, Draco Malfoy._

_-H_

Draco crumpled up the parchment and doubled over, hacking juicily. Harsh, rasping sobs wracked his entire body, and he couldn't even ponder how unmanly he appeared or even the physical agony bursting inside his body. All of his thoughts were on Hermione.

If his eyes had been open, he would have vaguely seen from the corner of his eye, his father silently shouting at him, demanding to know what was going on. But he didn't notice, so he wiped his mouth, grabbed his wand, and Apparated in front of Hermione's apartment suite. Shuddering uncontrollably, he knocked on her door and wiped his mouth again, removing any external evidence of his malady. Moments later, the witch opened the door, and he threw himself at her with his arms wrapping around her middle and head resting on her shoulder.

To be continued...


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** There is a part in this chapter that touches on Viktor Krum asking Hermione to visit him during the summer following Fourth year. The books hinted that she refused the offer, but my story will say different.

Enjoy the chapter. Read and review, please.

* * *

_If his eyes had been open, he would have vaguely seen from the corner of his eye, his father silently shouting at him, demanding to know what was going on. But he didn't notice, so he wiped his mouth, grabbed his wand, and Apparated in front of Hermione's apartment suite. Shuddering uncontrollably, he knocked on her door and wiped his mouth again, removing any external evidence of his malady. Moments later, the witch opened the door, and he threw himself at her with his arms wrapping around her middle and head resting on her shoulder._

"Mr. Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed in surprise, her body tensing against his at the abrupt contact. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," Draco sputtered and buried his face deeper into the soft material of her nigh-shirt. "Please forgive me. I know I don't deserve it, but please."

"Uh…" Hermione awkwardly wrapped her own arms around his back and patted him gently. "It's not your fault entirely, Mr. Malfoy. I have some blame in this, too."

With his arms still around her, Draco leaned away from her shoulder to focus his watery gaze upon the witch's face and choked out a response. "What? You have no blame. It's all me."

A deep, troubled crevice appeared between Hermione's brows and she said, "As much as I would like to put the entire blame on you, Mr. Malfoy, there is no denying my participation in the event that caused this. We both took the risk of the Contraceptive Potion, knowing there was still that point-one-percent chance of failure. You don't need to feel at fault, and I'm clearly not as broken up about it as you are. Here," she pulled him into her living room and closed the door, "sit on the couch, and I will make you some tea. Or would you prefer hot chocolate? I'm afraid I don't have any coffee. I've given that up along with smoking for the time being."

Draco inhaled deeply while depositing his body onto Hermione's couch. When the cushion hit his bum, he realized he had a meltdown after reading the letter and rushed over in hopes she would forgive him for hurting her the way he had. In his distressed haze, the fact she did not remember him flew out of his brain, and he probably appeared to be a raving lunatic groveling at her feet.

"If you have water," he whispered, knowing teas proclivity for being scalding hot would surely clash horribly with his cursed illness. Bloody hell, he shouldn't even be here. He cast a longing glance at the door.

"Of course," said Hermione as she rifled through the kitchen.

Draco tried to compose himself, swallowing the coppery bits in the back of his throat. Once the inflammation became bearable, he opened his eyes and noticed some pictures on the shelves next to the television. Gingerly, he arose and made his way towards them. The photographs were Muggle, no movement anywhere, probably keeping them that way on purpose in chance of having Muggle visitors.

There was a picture of her parents smiling and posing in front of Hermione's childhood home in Surrey, looking about the same as Draco remembered them. Another picture displayed Hermione with her natural curly brown hair, sitting on a twin bed with a nameless girl beside her. It must have been from Hermione's earlier years at Uni. There were several types of pictures similar to that one; Hermione ageing little by little. He came to another one that caused him to arch a brow. Her long curls were gone and in their place was a very short haircut. Not many British witches, regardless of Blood Status, cut their hair so short. The shortest style he had ever seen on a girl had been Pansy when she had favored the 'bob style' in her teenage years and Madam Hooch.

Draco wondered if she had not favored the hair style because in the following pictures her hair began to lengthen. In one of them, it was of Hermione with her hair straight, chin-length, and honey-blonde. She was frozen with her lips puckered in preparation of blowing out the candles atop of a birthday cake. The candles were reflecting blurrily off the camera lens, so Draco had a difficult time counting them. He reckoned twenty-seven or twenty-eight of them, and there was a man standing next to her, his arm around her shoulder and smiling.

Draco frowned.

Then the frown turned into a snarl.

It was Krum!

"Here's your water," Hermione chimed and Draco tore his eyes away from the photo and accepted the glass.

"So you knew Viktor Krum?" Draco asked nonchalantly, gesturing with to the picture.

Hermione smiled uneasily with a hint of befuddlement. "Well, yes. He came to Hogwarts that one year. Don't you remember? We dated. Merlin, it was all over the _Prophet_ among other things." She rolled her eyes as if recalling an absurd memory. "If you hadn't guessed, we resumed our relationship much later after school."

"If it's too personal…" Draco hinted with politeness though he was dying to know the whole story.

"No, no…well, yes, it is personal." Hermione blew on her hot tea, and Draco caught a whiff of lemon and ginger. "But I kind of think we should…know things about each other. With all things considered…"

"Right." He swallowed thickly and studied the glass of water I his hand. It was nice and cool, so he sipped at told her, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied and turned away from him to face the couch. "Like I said, though, Viktor and I dated at Hogwarts but broke things off when the year ended, and he had to go back to Bulgaria. He did invite me to visit him during the summer, and I did for a week. We wrote each other for years after that. Even when I attended Uni in the States."

Draco appeared interested and calm on the outside. On the inside, he was irked, greatly irritated and feeling hypocritically betrayed. He had no idea she spent time with Krum outside of Hogwarts, and she had never mentioned anything about that sod when they had been together. He had oncce thought Ron Weasley was going to be his biggest challenge in winning her over all those years ago, and that fight was pathetic because there really hadn't been one. Now he was facing the ghost of Fred Weasley and the almighty Viktor Krum. He wondered if there was anyone else he never knew about before he and Hermione started their relationship.

"Then when I graduated from business school, I had to set up shop, and I set my sights on Paris first. The Bulgarians were playing the French my first weekend there. One of my investors gave me a free ticket, and I thought 'why not?' I'd thought I would surprise Viktor, and he was very…" she blushed and tucked a curly blonde strand behind her ear. An ahem sound escaped her lips and she continued, "surprised. One thing led to another, but we were very private in our relationship. Something that seemed impossible to accomplish when at Hogwarts, but we were both adults and despised the media. We didn't even tell our friends how serious things got between us. We were careful, and we had a lot of fun." She gestured for the both of them to sit down on the couch. "But both of us wanted different things at different times. I was juggling two new shops in Berlin and buying up some property in Rome to open up a third. Viktor was talking about retiring which was fine. I didn't decrypt his talking for actually wanting to settle down and get married, though."

"He proposed to you?" Draco inquired, unable to cover the slight jealousy in voice, his hands gripping the glass of water, sort of imagining it to be the neck of Krum.

"Yes, and I accepted." Hermione paused to take a sip of her tea and admitted, "For about five minutes. That's how long it took for the flattery to subside and the reality to set in. We parted ways soon after that, and he married someone else if you hadn't already heard. Some Russian girl from an old family."

An awkward silence settled between them, so Hermione sipped her tea and he sipped his water. Draco was a bit peeved about the whole Krum revelation. It was in Hermione's past, so there really wasn't a reason for him to be affected at all. In fact, he had little right to even be bitter. He gave her up a long time ago, and he was just going to have to deal. Nevertheless, these few moments together would be the last they would have for several months.

The acidy-burning was returning, and Draco knew he needed to flee as soon as possible, but he became aware of her night attire. It was a Quidditch jersey from Magical Yale. She must have noticed his questioning eyes because she piped up with an indulgent grin, "No, I do not play Quidditch. This is my ex-boyfriend's jersey I acquired my second year at Yale. We shared an apartment for a semester before he packed up and headed back home for the summer. He left this, and I never saw him again. He transferred somewhere else that fall, so he wouldn't have needed it anyway."

"But you still wear it," Draco stated, his voice hitching with uncontrollable possessiveness.

Hermione licked her lips and set her cup down on her glass coffee table in front of them and stared at him evenly, like she knew that jersey and Krum bothered him and told him, "It's comfortable, and this probably makes me look a certain way, but it's not the only one I have. I won't lie, Draco. I've dated quite a bit. Before…well…this," she gestured to her stomach, "I've rarely been without a male companion."

A deafening void of silence dispensed between them, and Draco was no longer able to look at her. Instead, he drank more of his water and thought he liked it better when Ginny had told him of Hermione's dating habits instead of the words confessed from the girl herself.

"I play Quidditch. I was Seeker for a couple of years at Hogwarts," Draco offered, having found something to break the unbearable muteness.

Hermione's lips twitched and then split into a smile. "So you were. After our meeting in my shop, I went digging through my yearbooks to see if I could rouse a memory. No luck there at all, weirdly, but I saw a picture of you and your team. You looked adorable."

Some water had lodged its way into the wrong pipe at her words. The witch laughed while she patted him on the back.

"Adorable?" he questioned incredulously.

"It was you in your second year. You were a tiny thing, and you still had baby fat in your cheeks. You and your son resemble each other very much. He's quite adorable, too."

"Indeed," Draco agreed with a half-smile. "And he knows it and uses it against the most vulnerable. Like his grandmother."

"Aw. I bet he's spoiled rotten. He runs around with Ron and Pansy's kids, right?" she inquired and finished off her tea.

"Yes, sometimes the Potter kids, as well, if Harry and I are feeling up to it which is…almost never."

"It's strange." Hermione frowned and scratched behind her ear. "Our friends run around in the same group, but we have never officially met until just two months ago."

"Mmm," Draco noised vaguely, while avoiding eye contact and draining the rest of his water. When he finished, he set glass down next to her empty teacup on the coffee table. "Well, I best get going now that I know...you aren't angry with me for…right."

"It is rather late…or early," Hermione informed with a shrug, and Draco glanced at his watch. It was one in the morning. Bloody hell, he must have woken Hermione up. Damn, he was such a dozy sod!

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize the time when I came bounding over here like a mad prat."

Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "It's okay."

"Well…" Draco paused. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight." Hermione quipped and stuck out her hand for him to shake. He gripped it with his own and froze as did she. Their eyes drug from their clasped palms to each other's eyes and without thinking, Draco pulled her towards him and kissed her. She moaned into his mouth and clung to his form, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist only to have him turn and lay her on the couch and cover her body with his.

* * *

"We have to stop doing this," murmured a sleepy, post-coital Draco into Hermione's hair. She was as naked as him and curled up on his torso, her head resting on his chest, heavy pants escaping her.

"Do you really mean that, Mr. Malfoy?" she wheezed, amusement in her voice.

"Call me Draco, and I have no bloody idea because I want to do it again. Right now, in fact."

Hermione raised her head a fraction to look him in the eye and bob her head up and down. "Okay."

* * *

"No, no," Hermione whined and patted Draco's flushed cheek gently. His eyelids fluttered back open as she demanded, "More."

* * *

"I'm hungry," Hermione gasped and climbed off of Draco. He pushed himself up on his elbows, watching his prey gingerly maneuver herself off the couch and stagger into the kitchen. His sexual high was diminishing, and the pain in his abdominal area was returning. When she reached the refrigerator, he growled and lunged, tackling her onto the tile floor. She giggled and flipped him over and straddled him and yanked open the door.

"Are you hungry, too?" she breathed out while her hand sprung out a squeeze-y bottle of chocolate syrup and butter caramel.

* * *

Grimacing as coppery acid crept up his esophagus, Draco shakily inhaled while lying down on the cold, tile floor of Hermione's kitchen. Hermione lay asleep and curled up on his chest with no idea how excruciatingly and how quickly she was killing him.

She wasn't heavy but the added weight painfully assisted the seeping, boiling matter splashing around inside him. He clenched his teeth together and balled up his fists, his fingernails pressing into the palms of his hands. His lungs quivered in readiness to dislodge the gore of which they had accumulated. Sweat beaded up at his brow and pooled at the back of his neck; the skin of his back suctioned to the floor.

Draco had to leave. He was shortening his lifespan and living on borrowed time. He looked down at the curly blonde hair for as long as he could bear. This was the last time he would be able to properly see her, and he needed to hold on for just a little longer. He needed to feel the softness of her skin one last time.

"Draco?" whispered Granger, her breath tickling his chest and making him hitch his breath in surprise.

"Yes," he whispered back wetly. He swallowed and refrained from hacking up his liquefying insides. He cocked his and strained to see her eyes. They were closed, and her puffs breaths were shallow against his chest. She was sleep talking.

"Where have you been?" she asked.

"I'm right here," he replied, a little confused but far too deep in physical anguish to press the matter further.

"I've missed you. You went away," she groaned, and Draco lightly coughed, splatters of blood hitting the back of his front teeth. Hermione curled herself deeper into his form, and he felt her lips lightly brush across his skin. His hand drifted downward and caressed the ends of her hair and the raised bumps of her spine while he swilled his tongue around his mouth to clean his teeth.

"I haven't gone anywhere." He chanced for a light cough but gagged as blood coated his tongue. His eyes opened wide and focused on the ceiling and accepted he was not going to be able to reverse Hermione's memory and lift the curse in time. He came and exposed himself repetitively in the most intimate of ways. Maybe if hurried, he could Apparate to St. Mungo's without being splinched and prolong his life just enough to sort out any last-minute affairs.

"Then where have I been?" Hermione asked in a breathy whisper, and Draco closed his eyes. Her words had barely registered to him. He craned his head to the side and pressed his heated forehead into the cool, tiles of the floor. He lightly gripped Hermione's shoulders and ground his back molars together, aware that if he refused to cough, he would literally drown in his own blood. He dully thought it'd be cleaner that way.

"You hurt me," she said.

He distantly felt wet drops drip onto his skin, and his own tears escaped their caverns. His became clogged by solid chunks of coppery wetness. Squeezing his eyes tighter, he waited.

"I forgive you, Draco."

A frigid sensation pooled in the pit of Draco's stomach and burst into an icy fluid consistency and spread throughout his entire body. The energy lulled him into unconsciousness and if he had been awake, he would have felt the inflamed muscle and bloodied tissue within himself be replenished and healed.

To be continued...


	15. Chapter 15

Something tugging at his bottom lip and brushing against his nose roused Draco from his sleep. Blinking awake, he saw Hermione Granger in all of her wild-haired glory straddling him with each bare knee framing his torso as she feasted on his lips. He gasped in surprised, and the minx took the opportunity to giggle breathily and fling her tongue inside of his mouth. Moaning in appreciation, he raised himself into a sitting position and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. His fingers danced up along her back and dove into her unruly curls. Her hands swam through his hair, as well, tugging and yanking at the short boyish strands. She then stilled, pulling away and scrunching up her nose in distaste.

"You have really bad morning breath, Mr. Malfoy," she apprised.

Draco frowned at the insult and retorted, "You don't smell like roses either, Granger."

Snickering, she lunged at him again, cupping his head to pepper open-mouthed kisses on his cheeks, chin, and forehead. She started fiddling with his hair, his face buried in the joining of her neck and shoulder. Inhaling deeply, his teeth sought some 'good morning' flesh and nibbled.

"You'd think I'd remember this hair." Hermione raked her fingernails throughout it. He bristled at her words, and she must have sensed his change in demeanor because she pulled back with a frown and asked, "What's wrong?"

Draco took her face in his hands so their noses were nearly brushing. He drilled into her wary orbs with his own inquiring ones and gruffly asked, "Do you remember?"

"Remember?" she questioned back, lines appearing on her forehead. "Remember what?"

Bloody hell! If the witch was trying his patience so she could get back at him…If she thought she could get away with what she said last night…

"Last night," he replied and Hermione quirked a brow and smirked.

"Well yeah, silly boy."

Clamping his lips together and licking his teeth, which did taste disgusting, he breathed deeply and said, "I meant after. You were talking."

"Talking," she repeated and bit her bottom lip before whipping her head back and forth. "I've no idea."

"You were almost asleep. What were you saying? You can't just…" His words lingered, and then he bit his tongue. Gods, if this was a joke.

"I was sleep talking?" Her cheeks pinked up in embarrassment. "What was I saying? Was it embarrassing? Was it rude?"

"Hermione," he began, prepping himself to yell at her and point out the charade was done, and he had suffered enough for her actions. But he didn't. "What were you dreaming of last night?"

She stared at him for a few moments with an unreadable expression and quietly admitted, "You. I was dreaming of you."

Draco nodded his head, urging her to continue, but she lowered her focus and eyelashes, shrugging. Keeping from shouting curse words at her sudden case of coyness, "What about me? What I was doing?"

His persistence was unsettling her, he could tell, so he cupped the side of her face and traced her cheekbone with his thumb, the tip of it flirting slightly with her bottom lashes. Eventually, she sighed and broke eye contact and licked her lips timidly and said, "Don't judge me too harshly. Since we've officially met, you've been perturbed I can't remember you at all from our school years. I, too, find it odd. But since our first meeting, I've dreamed of you. On again, off again occurrences, and things like that."

"Of me? What am I doing in these dreams?" Draco asked, and Hermione blushed and began to nibble on her bottom lip again.

"All kinds of things." She grinned shyly, and then her embarrassment melted away. "But mostly it's just you being _you_. It's like my swotty mind can't take the blow not remembering someone from school and is making up things."

More than a little perturbed she still didn't remember him, he accepted that her mind was trying to find those lost memories by filling in the gaps. Hermione was merely having reveries of things that were real but could not be placed. Her dreams were not real to her, and Draco needed to accept they never would be until she consumed the counter-potion of Memoria Obscurare.

"Last night…" Hermione grimaced and the blushing of her cheeks deepened into a rouge color. "I dreamt that I hadn't seen you in a long time, and I missed you. But when I saw you again, I…forgave you for leaving. Silly, I know. You haven't gone anywhere, and you were with me the entire night."

"Forgave me," Draco repeated. That was it, wasn't it? Forgiveness. That's what saved him because her concealed hatred was gone. And more than that, _she_ was in there somewhere—his Hermione, and _she _forgave him.

He cupped her chin and brought her forward, so their noses were brushing once more. His eyes locked with hers, and he searched them. He wasn't entirely sure what he was seeking, for surely his Hermione was not going launch herself from those spectacular brown eyes and slap his deserving face.

"Are we trying to have a staring contest?" Hermione smiled and let out a giggle. "Because I have to tell you something, Mr. Malfoy, I never lose."

He smirked, a bit elated that his girl wasn't entirely lost within her own mind or simply gone. "There's a first time for everything, Miss Granger."

"It won't be today."

His smirk deepened into a smile. "Fine. On the count of three, we will officially get you started on losing for the first time."

"One," challenged Hermione, a spark of excitement lighting up her brown eyes.

"Two," said Draco, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Thr-Mmmph!"

A deep laugh vibrated throughout Draco's chest as Hermione struggled against his lips. She was finally able to detach them from hers and whine, "Your breath is rancid, Draco. Seriously, did something die inside of you last night?"

"Well, that's rude." Draco poked at her bare ribs which were decorated with chocolate and caramel remnants from their earlier playtime.

Oh yes, he knew her ticklish spots. She jolted and recoiled from his touch.

"No. Don't you dare." She shook her head from left to right.

He poked her in the ribs again and then let all of his fingers join in. They skidded across her ribs and danced at the dips of her waist. She laughed and wheezed and he was able to lay her down on the tile. The tips of his fingers found the way to her belly, and he gently dug in and wiggled them into the soft flesh. She squirmed and mewled and threatened him.

"STOP! If you don't, I'll hex you!"

"You don't have your wand on you, minx," he taunted and continued in ministrations. Her arms were trying to fight his off while her legs flailed about. He tempted the thought of sitting on them but instead lifted his fingers and replaced them with his mouth. His teeth gathered a bit of chocolate smeared softness from her belly, and he remembered their baby was in there. He brought a finger back to the smooth skin and caressed the area before venturing upwards and caressing her scar.

"Draco," Hermione rasped, more than a little out of breath. He smirked up at her mischievously while his other hand stretched somewhere to the side. Her vision followed his motion, and shy interest ignited her eyes. "Hungry, are you?"

His hand wrapped around the discarded squeeze-bottle of caramel and flicked the cap open. "Just a little," he murmured and started to tip the bottle over her exposed stomach.

A loud, tenacious banging halted Draco's breakfast plan and he grumbled, "There's someone at the door."

_BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!_

"Ignore it. They'll go away soon. I demand you go back to what you were doing."

Draco relaxed and began tipping the bottle of caramel once again. Such a good way to start a Saturday morning. There was no work, and Scorpius was at Blaise's for an overnight party with his children. There was nothing to worry about or hurry back to.

A light brown ribbon of caramel drizzled onto Hermione's belly before he heard a key being inserted into the lock and someone enter.

"Hermione?" a voice called out, and Draco squeezed the bottle in shock, ignoring the huge glop that plopped onto Hermione's torso. Panic surged through him, and he wasn't the only one. Hermione, too, stared wide-eyed in the direction where Harry Potter's voice was coming from. From where they were laying though, the man could not see them. He probably only saw the countertop and the upper half of the fridge.

"Oh, no!" Hermione hissed and shot him a worried expression. "That's Harry. Oh dear! If he sees you-"

"He'll kill me," Draco finished.

"Well…maybe. Most likely, he'll hurt you a little, but he's really overprotective. What are we going to do? I can't hide you. My wand is on the coffee table."

"So is mine," Draco said and the revelation dawned on them both. "So is mine!" he repeated in horror.

"He's going to see it! He's going to see our clothes. He's going to know I have someone over! He's not going to like this."

"Maybe he'll think it's your boyfriend's."

"He knows I broke up with him, _and_ my ex was a Muggle."

Draco's eyes widened in alarm at Hermione's revelation but chose to not comment. He was more concerned about Potter in the next room.

"What do we do?"

"I don't know."

"Hermione!" Harry called again. "I'm sorry if you're sleeping, but I have to talk to you. It's about Ginny. I think she's hiding something from me."

"He's by my bedroom door," Hermione said, uneasiness dripping from tone. They heard him knock on the door.

"Hermione, wake up. I'm coming in," her friend said and heard him open the bedroom door and call out, "Hermione, where are you?" and shuffle back into the living room.

"Herm-" Harry cut himself off and then continued stiffly, "I see your wand. It's on the coffee table. It's next to another, and…there are clothes. I know you're here, Hermione. Where are you, and…who's with you?"

Harry's footfalls were approaching closer, and Hermione shot Draco an apologetic look before slowly rising to her feet. Offhandedly, Draco noted from the particular angle, there was evident swelling around Hermione's middle. Hopefully from where Potter stood, he wouldn't be able notice his friend's current delicate condition.

"Herm- Oh! Oh, Hermione!" Draco heard Potter say. He imagined the man blushing at the sight of his best female friend in the nude and turning his back to her in embarrassment. At least he hoped Potter did. Hermione wasn't making any effort to cover her lady bits from her friend. Draco couldn't help but wonder if the tosser had seen her starkers before. There were rumors back in school and such.

"Stay where you are, Harry, and don't come any closer," Hermione demanded calmly.

"You're naked," said Potter, his tone also wavering and added, "in your kitchen."

"I have every right to walk around in whatever state of dress in my home; however, I would appreciate it if you would come back at another time."

"And I saw your scar and there is… stuff...smeared all over you."

Hermione looked down at her dark pink groove, chocolaty smeared torso, and upper thighs with a flush of embarrassment.

"I…" she hesitated, "have a friend over, Harry. Now is really not a good time for you to be here. Come back around noon, please, when I'm cleaned up and dressed."

"It is noon," Harry spat. "Is it Zabini?"

An unknown force punched Draco in the gut while Hermione stiffened and her gaze flickered down at him for a brief second before returning to Potter. He knew she and Blaise had been intimate due to his friend's confession on New Year's Eve, but that didn't stop the feeling of betrayal and a pang of jealousy lounging about his insides.

"No, Harry, it's not, and you really need to leave."

"Tell me who it is, Hermione? He might have a record? He could be a mass murder."

"You're being ridiculous!" Hermione shrilled and folded her arms across her chest.

"Is he there in the kitchen with you? I didn't see him. Is he on the floor?"

"Harry!" Hermione warned and gave Draco a panicked glance. "No! Do not turn around!"

Shit! Shit! Shit! Draco chanted in his frightened mind. What was he going to do? Potter was going to find him and kill him! There was no place to hide.

"Harry, stop! I'm naked and so is he." Hermione raised her hands and waved them. "This is very unlike you."

"I don't care," Potter growled and Hermione cringed as she covered her breasts with one arm and her womanhood with the other.

"Will you at least give me your coat?" she whispered delicately.

Hermione was tossed Potter's coat, and she slipped it on and zipped it up to preserve some modesty. With a sigh of resignation, Draco covered his own bits with a hand and waited for his doom. Sure enough, Potter walked into the kitchen and around the island counter and glared down. The man's glare was short-lived when he came to realize who he was actually going to kill. The angry pink in his cheeks drained, and his green eyes nearly fell out of his head while his jaw slammed into the floor.

"M-Malfoy," Harry stuttered before heat erupted in his cheeks once again alerting Draco that the shock was over and realization was settling in.

"Potter," Draco greeted with a nod.

"Harry," Hermione tried quietly. Harry pinned his eyes on her next.

"Do have any idea who this man is, Hermione?"

"Uh...our relationship is fairly new," she informed nervously. "I know he was once a Death Eater, but-"

"So you _don't know_ who he is?"

Hermione tossed him an incredulous look. "Like I said, we are still in the beginnings and listen, please," Hermione begged. "I know he's probably not your favorite person, but I know you two can be civil towards each other. Your children play together every once in a while. And he's really sweet to me, Harry."

Harry stared at her like she had grown a pumpkin out of her nose. "Hermione." His shook his head in denial. "This is a mistake. You don't really want him. I get that you might be lon-"

"Don't tell me what I want and don't want, Harry James Potter!" Hermione screeched. "You're acting just like Ginny did!"

_Oh, Merlin!_ Draco inwardly pleaded to his favored deity. _Kill me now and do it quickly!_

"Ginny knows about this? About you two? Is that what she's been hiding?" growled Harry.

Hermione saw her mistake, and her eyes widened in apology. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for her to keep it from you. I never her told her to do that, but I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

"Does Ron know?"

"No," Hermione said. "But…Pansy might."

It was then when Harry snapped his eyes back on Draco and seethed, "Does she really?"

She sighed. "You are acting completely irrational, and you need to leave. For the love of Merlin, Draco and I are spending time together!"

With a venomous glared pinned on Draco, Harry bared his teeth. "I will leave when he promises to leave you alone forever. I may even require a Wizard's Oath."

Hermione screeched so loud, both boys winced. "Harry, what is the matter with you? You have never acted this way before about any of the others! Not even with Blaise! You need to go home and later, I may drop by and we can have a civil conversation where I am properly dressed and you are calm."

"You don't understand-" Harry tried.

"Explain it to me then." Hermione placed her hands on her canted hips and pursed her lips while Harry's jaw twitched.

"He's a…Death Eater," her friend forced out and his shoulders sagged.

The woman's rigid stance and hard glare softened and she said confidently, "Not anymore."

"His house was the one where we were taken to, remember? It's where you were tortured. It was his aunt that gave you that scar on your arm."

Hermione smiled fragilely and then momentarily glanced at Draco. "I know. It wasn't his fault, though."

Harry tried once more to deter his friend away from the other man. "He's married, Hermione."

"I'm aware but when has that ever stopped me?" she asked evenly.

Both Draco and Harry cringed at Hermione, the blond hoping she referred to Blaise and no one else. The odds were slim, unfortunately, from what he knew of her.

"Stop seeing him, please. For me, " begged Harry.

"Do I get a say in this?" Draco asked and was rewarded a dirty look from Harry.

"Of course," Hermione told him with an amused grin.

"Absolutely not, you bleedin' tosser!" Harry shouted as if remembering that Draco was actually there, not just a subject to be discussed.

"Harry, if you won't leave, then let Draco and I get dressed so we can continue this lovely conversation like mild-mannered people."

A growl from Harry, trailed by a teeth-clenching "fine", Draco stood up to his feet and followed Hermione to the living room where they gathered their clothes and wands, and went into her bedroom and casted a _Scourgify_ on themselves, and dressed.

They dressed in awkward silence, but to break some of the tension, Hermione leaned over and kissed him in on the cheek with apologetic eyes. He watched her go over to her nightstand, pick up her folded glasses, and slip them on.

"I've meant to ask," Draco said. "You didn't wear glasses back at Hogwarts."

Hermione blinked from behind her framings and then smiled. "The body changes as it gets older, and both of my parents wear glasses. I suppose I could wear contacts, and sometimes I do, but I think these make me look rather intelligent."

When entering the living room, Draco had his wand ready as did Harry.

"Put those away, boys. They _won't_ be needed. Now, Harry, you are acting preposterous, but I know you are just trying to protect me. Nevertheless, what Draco and I have is really none of your business."

Draco expected Harry to argue or simply blowup or even roll his eyes. He didn't. Instead, he put an impressively ruthless glare on him. "Do you agree with Hermione?"

When Draco did not answer right away, Harry spoke once more.

"Is it really none of my business when my friend is dating someone who is…" Harry let that hang and pinned another loathing glare on Draco, "capable of hurting her? Should I simply stand by and watch this horrible communion crash into the ground? Should I do nothing? Just walk away and accept this…this thing that you have? No. No. No."

From the corner of his eye, Draco watched Hermione turn her head and stare at him momentarily before looking back at Harry.

"I understand your dislike for him, but I think you are exaggerating or perhaps jumping into something you have little understanding of. Draco cares about me, and I like him, but I can't certainly say that what we have is an appropriate relationship. Like you said, he's married. I know he has family. What Draco and I have is just something that benefits us both. I'm sure eventually, we will move on with both of our lives. Don't you agree, Mr. Malfoy?"

Hermione's assuming and distant words stung. It sounded like she was discussing business or the weather over coffee, but Draco knew she was trying to protect herself and her unborn child from being hurt along with easing her best friend's nerves.

But could he do that? Could he leave her alone now, pregnant or not? The sex had turned bloody amazing, yes, but…did he even like her that way? She wasn't _his _Hermione.

He admitted to himself that Hermione was kind of interesting in a different way than she used to be. She had different stories, different likes, and different styles, but yes, he liked her.

"No, I don't agree," Draco mumbled and shook his head.

Potter's eyes narrowed, and Hermione blinked in surprise. "You don't?" they both asked simultaneously.

"No," he stated firmly. "I like you, Granger."

Hermione and Draco ignored Harry's growl of protest.

"Draco," she started uneasily and shifted uncomfortably on her seat, a hand discreetly resting over her stomach. "Are you just saying that because…"

"Malfoy…" Harry bared his teeth. "Don't!"

But Draco did. He did like this Hermione in a way. He preferred the old Hermione, but there was something about this one. It could have been the sex. Hell, it could have been the glasses. It could have been that blasted 'forgiving' streak, she never quite rid herself of. He didn't want to let her go again. Not yet, anyway. He wasn't dying, and the counteragent was underway. What was the rush to leave?

"Hermione," Draco said, ignoring Potter completely and taking the witch's hand in his. "If we kept this simple, could we date? No promises and no strings unless or until we think we are ready. Let's take it slow."

His thumb caressed the back of her hand, her brown eyes focused on the movement. After a few moments, she raised her eyes to meet his. "What about-"

"We can wait. I haven't seen my wife in over two months, and the divorce papers are in the making. I will wait until everything is signed and legal if you wish."

Hermione nodded and gnawed on her lower lip in contemplation and then nodded. "Yes."

"Hermione-" Harry tried.

"We might as well considering..." But she left it at that and Draco was grateful. She then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and wandered off into her room. The two men watched the door close behind her.

Harry raised his wand and cast a _Muffliato_ at Hermione's door before saying, "Malfoy, I am going to kill you."

"Look, I get it." Draco raised his hands in surrender. It was very unlike him, but he felt as if should avoid a fight with Potter and try to keep the bloke as collected as possible.

"Do you?"

"Yes. I do. I know that I made a mistake leaving Hermione."

Harry looked like he wanted nothing more than to regurgitate all of his thoughts out into the open and through his wand. A million murderous scenarios were sprinting in the back of his eyes, and Malfoy was almost surprise when he simply said, "You'll just hurt her again."

"No, I won't," Draco promised. "I don't even know if it will get that far, honestly. Don't get me wrong. I find Granger fetching, but she's not the same girl I loved ten years ago. Starting over with her now is like starting over with a completely different girl. You don't need to worry about my intentions or ask what they are because I haven't a clue myself, Potter."

Silence passed between the two wizards before Harry spoke up. "You know about the potion, don't you? I didn't want her to take it. I still wish she hadn't. You're not the only one who can't love Hermione like you used to. I mean…I will always love her, but there's hardly anything I find loveable about her. She loves books still, but sometimes…all the time…she does things that upset me, and loving books aren't enough. The decisions she makes disappoint me. Did you know her parents won't even speak with her? The Weasleys, Ginny's parents, they barely tolerate her. It makes it bloody damned difficult and gatherings. "

For the first time in Draco's life, he understood Potter. Or at least a snippet of him. They had both lost the woman that they loved in the same way. With Harry, it was a friend. With Draco, it was a memory.

"Do Hermione's parents know about…anything? I mean, I met them."

"They don't remember you. A simple _Obliviate_ from Hermione was all it took for them," Harry professed. "Another thing I'm angry about, but it's not like I can yell at her about it now, can I? I know there might be a way to reverse the effects of the potion she drank, and she could be the girl I remember from school and from the war. The girl that was wholesome, precious, and feisty."

"I get where you are coming from. Believe me, but if you really thought about reversing _Memoria Obscurare's _influence was the right thing to do, you would have done it," Draco pointed out.

"So would you." Harry solemnly pointed out, and Draco left it at that. That was a story for Potter at another time.

Another bout of silence enveloped them. Finally after a few minutes, Harry courageously piped up, "So who gets to tell Ron?"

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A/N: One more update after this and it will be done! Yay! Happy dance for JJ! :)


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** Last chapter of the story! Yay! I'm so glad to be done with it. I may go back someday and tidy up the errors I missed, but other than that, **Remember the Hate** is done. I can get the companion piece ready for posting.

I hope my readers liked the story, and I'm grateful for their participation. Thank you reviewers, followers, and those who placed this fic on their favorite list. Now on with the last update.

Oh, and like I said before, this fic was designed with a different time frame than from J.K.'s universe.

I've posted the first chapter of the prequel which is called **The Road of Forgiveness**. Check out my profile for further information.

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Epilogue

_September 1, 2016_

Platform 9 ¾ was jammed packed with family members sending their students off to Hogwarts on the Hogwarts express. Draco was among them and was sending off Scorpius. He waved to his son who already found a compartment on the train. His boy adjusted the window and stuck out his arm to bid farewell to his father and little sister.

"Bye, Dad! Bye, Wendy!" he shouted and Draco smiled at him. Feeling a hand resting on the back of his shoulder, he turned around and faced his tired fiancé who groaned in faux dismay when Wendy lifted up her little arms in a demanding gesture to be held by her mum. She stooped down and picked up the child, awkwardly maneuvering Wendy around her hip, making sure the little girl's leg was placed strategically around her stomach.

The engagement ring on her finger was not his grandmother's ring, or any kind of jewel from his Malfoy and Black inheritance. It was simply just a pretty ring found at a jewelry shop. The band was white gold and had three diamonds designed into a princess cut. Beautiful but a million could be found just like it, but his fiancé had wanted it regardless.

When Draco proposed to Hermione five months prior, it wasn't extravagant or romantic in the slightest. Their relationship was not chocolate covered strawberries and moonlit dinners on top of the Eiffel Tower. Their relationship was realistic, and for the last few years, long distance. With him still residing in Wiltshire, they had often resorted speaking by Muggle cellphones and the ingenious Muggle invention called Skype due to the Floo Network's 'in progress' plan to go across the pond.

Eighteen months following Wendy's birth, Hermione had enough of England and told Draco of her plans to take their daughter and resume hopscotching across Europe to progress her wealth, thus, causing problems in their relationship. He had not wanted her to go and definitely not with their daughter, pointing out the girl needed stability. Arguments and expletives were tossed about which resulted in Hermione threatening to end their relationship that caused him to take a step back and allow her to continue opening stores, never staying in a place longer than six months.

When Wendy was close to three, Hermione resided in Dublin for a full year before telling Draco she was planning on opening a shop in Salem, Massachusetts and had already looked into some bank-owned property. Again, he let her go even though it went against everything inside him to do so, but he even helped her set up a pleasant cottage with a nice back yard where their daughter could play.

For two years, Hermione and their daughter lived in Salem and because of the distance, Draco was not able to visit them as often as he had when they were living abroad in Europe. His once or twice a month drop-ins had decreased to 'a few times a year' thing. Getting a Portkey to the States required going through all kinds of red tape, especially if it was for personal reasons. Sometimes, she would visit him, as well, like on holidays and such.

His last visit had been on Valentine's Day, and it was surprisingly brilliant. They didn't argue like they usual did during his stays, and Wendy actually called him daddy for the first time instead of Draco. The little girl had finally accepted the recurring blond man was indeed some sort of paternal figure like her mummy. When she was put down for bed that night with a sitter, he took Hermione out to dinner and then brought her back home and shagged her good and proper before returning to England. Two months following, Hermione called like she had many times before, telling him about all the cute things that Wendy said or did, her work, the new friends she had made, and all that rubbish. And oh, she's pregnant.

Draco talked her into taking a holiday from work and portkeying back to Britain where they could talk things over. After compromising over lunch, Draco took her to a jewelry store, pointed her to the cases specializing in rings, and told her to pick one. He did not get down on one knee, nor did he tell her that he loved her, or made a whole bunch of promises that may have evoked tears of joy and hope.

While the jeweler was adjusting the size of the chosen ring, Draco had told her to not look at the ring as a sign of a wedding to come in the near future. He told her to look at it like it was a promise ring, that someday they would get married when they were ready.

They spent a few days together, he and Hermione with the kids and then she had to return with Wendy back to Salem. Three weeks later, she called him saying she was 'preparing herself to become ready' to get married, and she was planning to return to London.

For good.

"You seem distracted, Draco," Hermione said, her hand caressing his back while her other arm supported their daughter.

"I'll miss Scorpius." Draco shrugged and slithered his hand around her expanding waist. She rested her head on his shoulder and gently nodded up and down. He smiled and gazed down at her brown curls, remembering when they had been straight and blonde.

Hermione nodded. "I was talking with Ginny and Harry over there. They were asking if we've picked a date yet."

Draco did not comment. He vaguely heard what she said, and the words were similar to what Hermione had said sixteen years prior when showing off her engagement ring to her friends.

Sometimes Draco wanted to give her back the memories she hid from herself all those years ago. He kept the counter-potion George had given him years ago and stored it in his personal safe in his office building. All this time he had it just in case he decided to change his mind and go through with it. A part of him worried if he did, Hermione might leave, but that wasn't the main reason he hadn't.

Unlike Astoria, he actually felt like he could be a husband to Hermione. He hoped that their promise to each other would be enough for her to stay and enough for him to not be a selfish git, to settle down with each other, and to love each other like a husband and wife and not like married parents of children.

Draco loved her, but it wasn't the same way he loved her all those years ago. Back then, their love would have been about the engagement, wedding, honeymoon, and the first child. He and Hermione skipped all that and went straight for the child part and started a journey to a mature kind of love at their place of 'new beginning' which had occurred on a kitchen floor and involved a near death experience. Not in the bookshop with _Peter Pan_ and definitely not after the strawberry ice cream and the _Doctor Faustus_ debacle.

Neither of them _fell_ in love. It just evolved that way, and it wasn't like an epiphany. Draco recalled the event to be more along the lines of acceptance. When they had told each other of their affection, it was an agreement and not an epic event. In fact, they were not even in the same country when professing their love. Skype was quite useful in that way. Not romantic in the least but useful.

The Hogwarts Express whistled loudly before chugging along. Draco gave one last wave at Scorpius as did Hermione and Wendy. While the train started chugging along slowly, leaving the platform, Draco spoke up.

"So what about next June when Scorpius is out of school?" Draco suggested, referring back to Hermione's statement. "Would it be too soon?"

She titled her head in consideration and then hesitantly nodded with a ghost of a smile. "I think that would be okay."

The End


End file.
